


Love's Cure

by The Neon Gang (clgfanfic)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Appendicitis, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Old West, Sickfic, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:44:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4721579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/The%20Neon%20Gang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin is sick and Chris is scared.  Ezra, who is usually on the outside looking in, find himself having to be strong for both of his friends, but the payoff is worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's Cure

**Author's Note:**

> This is the slash version of the gen story "Worse Than the Cure." It was originally published as a standalone novella of the same name. The original plot line is from an Alias Smith and Jones story, one of my favorites, and one of the first fan fics I ever read. Many, many, many years ago I asked the author about taking the basic plot and doing it as a Mag7 story, she said go ahead, we did. Well, once the gen version was written it kept pestering us, and pestering us, and pestering us to do it as a slash story, and, once we gave in, Ezra just had to stick his-- well, you'll see.

**Just after sunset, Wednesday**

 

          "Reckon they're four, maybe five miles ahead," Vin announced after he finished checking the tracks he'd found on the ground. "Best we not build a fire t'night." And with that advice the tracker scrambled up onto a rocky ridge and pulled out his spyglass to sweep the landscape like a sharp-eyed hawk.

          The sun was setting, ushering in a dark, chill night in the desert. A white half-moon waned above the rocky rise they had stopped near for the night and did nothing to warm the trail-weary men.

With a soft sigh, Ezra Standish bade farewell to his hopes for a hot meal and some coffee. "You're sure?"

          "Hell, Ezra, who else would be fool enough t' camp out on a night like this?" the tracker asked.

          "Us," the gambler replied dryly.

          Tanner closed up his spyglass and slid down from his rocky perch, wincing when he landed, a reaction the gambler noticed.

They walked back to their waiting horses.

          Chris Larabee frowned slightly when he saw Tanner wasn't moving with his usual cat-like grace. "Something wrong?" he asked from the back of his gelding.

          "Jist a stitch in m' side, ain't nothin'," was the reply. "We'll stay here."

The three men took care of their horses and then set about making a camp for themselves.

Vin broke the silence that had settled over them, saying, "After we catch this bunch, think 'm goin' t' head up t' the hills fer a few days…" he looked over at Larabee, then asked, "Y' want t' come along?"

          Chris allowed himself a rare smile. "Think I could do that," he said softly, knowing what the tracker had in mind for the two of them. They had been lovers for almost a year now, and time away meant that they could indulge themselves.

          Vin nodded in reply, a small, pleased smile lifting the corners of his mouth. It still amazed the tracker that he'd found a partner like Chris Larabee. He glanced over at the gambler, adding, "Yer turn t' fix us up somethin' t' eat, Ezra."

          Standish snorted softly. "I'm afraid stale biscuits and old jerky will be the best I can do without a fire."

          "It'll do," Vin replied, grinning at the disgusted look on the other man's face.

Muttering under his breath, Ezra began digging the food out of the saddlebags.

The three men had been on the trail for three days, riding hard after a bunch of renegade Apaches who had slipped over the Mexican border to prey on farmers who offered little threat to the well-seasoned warriors. But the five fugitives hadn't counted on the seven regulators who had been hired to protect Four Corners and the surrounding territory. When the Indians had realized they were being hunted – a day into the chase – they had split up.

Chris, Vin and Ezra had followed one trail, Buck, JD and Josiah the second. Larabee sent Nathan out to some of the more distant farms in order to warn the families about the threat. With luck, they would all meet up in Ruby Wells in a day or two, the renegades either captured or dead.

          The men ate in companionable silence, Chris and Vin as comfortable with the lack of words as they were with breathing in one another's company. Ezra chaffed a little under the silence, but he knew better than to try and engage the two men in conversation.

As they ate, Larabee noted that Vin was just nibbling on his jerky and he only finished off one biscuit, and used water to soften it up first.

          When they finished, Vin looked out at the darkness and said, "I'll take first watch."

          "All right," Chris agreed, tired enough not to argue with him. "I'll take the second and Ezra can have the last."

"If you think it's absolutely necessary," the gambler replied.

"I do," Larabee replied as he pulled off his boots. He snuggled under the blanket from his bedroll, dead to the world until Vin woke him a few hours later. He took over the watch, trading off with Ezra three hours later.

The gambler wrapped his blanket around his shoulders, and stared out into the darkness. Nearby lay the two men who had been occupying his thoughts and dreams for several months now.

He was relatively sure that neither of them knew he had uncovered their relationship, and he planned to keep it that way, but he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it… not since the evening he'd arrived at Larabee's cabin to find the men… engaged in Larabee's barn.

He still wasn't sure how long he actually stood there, watching, but survival instincts eventually took over and he'd fled, praying the entire way that he hadn't been overheard. He then spent days, watching the two men, approaching them carefully, trying to determine if they had been aware of his presence, but it had appeared that they had not. Relief had quickly been replaced by curiosity and then, much to his dismay, by longing.

He looked from Tanner to Larabee, remembering how they had held and touched one another, how they had loved each other… Damn them both for awakening desires and feelings in him that he'd thought long buried. And now that they _had_ been awakened, he was convinced that they would lead him to his ruin.

But he couldn't help but long for it. What he wouldn't give to feel a touch from either of these men's hand.

He swallowed hard. It was pure insanity. How could either of them have room for him in their hearts? Surely their hearts were filled with each other…

Vin… an illiterate poet, an innocent man, wanted for murder… it was the stuff of legend and fairy tale. But there he lay… beautiful, desirable… and as dangerous as a wolverine…

And Chris… grieving husband, gunslinger… he _was_ a legend… and physical perfection as far as the gambler was concerned… One of the few men he truly feared…

He felt his body shudder as he allowed himself the indulgence of imagining himself caught between them for a moment. And his body responded, rising to the occasion, as it were.

He cursed softly and forced the images away. He was playing with fire… but oh how he longed to be burned by those twin flames…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ *

 

**Thursday morning**

 

          The peacekeepers were up and headed out again before sunrise, leading their horses. They followed a trail of sorts, but it was too rough to risk their mounts riding in the darkness.

          "Watch yer faces," Vin called quietly.

          A moment later Larabee and Ezra were catching the wiry branches that whipped back at them after Tanner passed.

Larabee knew underbrush this thick would have been worn away if the trail got any regular use, but he also knew that the renegades wouldn't want to use any well-worn paths. Tanner was following the signs of trampled plants, although how the tracker was able to see them in the darkness, Chris didn't know. At least the sky was getting lighter in the east; a little longer and they would be able to ride again. And no doubt the renegades would as well.

          "This trail's too obvious," Larabee commented when he began to see the signs for himself.

          "Hell, Lar'bee, tell me somethin' I don't already know," Tanner snapped.

          Ezra frowned. "Is there something wrong, Mr. Tanner?"

          "No," was the tracker's immediate reply, his gaze full of apology as he met Chris' eyes. It was followed a moment later by, "Yeah."

In the growing light both men saw the tracker shrug.

"Hell, 'm sorry, Chris," Tanner apologized. "Got me a bellyache; makes me a mite prickly." He grinned at the gambler. "Must be yer damn cookin'."

Larabee shook his head at Standish's scandalized expression. "Hell, my belly's starting to think my throat's been cut. You're probably just hungry. You want some jerky?"

Vin shook his head. "Let's ride."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          As the mountains rose higher in front of them, the underbrush along the trail thinned out, finally fading to almost nothing. Tanner never lost the trail he was tracking, though, even if he did grow even quieter than usual, which had both Chris and Ezra worried. But they knew any questions would only be met by stony silence so, my mutual consent, they didn't bother, choosing to keep a closer eye on the man instead. What they saw did nothing to ease their concern.

          Ezra noted that Vin was moving slower than usual, stiffly at times, too. And Chris heard the tracker's breath catch a few times when Tanner squatted down, or leaned over too far as he peered at a track. They were small things, but together they added up to something neither man liked.

          Around noon Vin found a clear spring and they stopped to refill their canteens and water their horses. He moved slowly around the pool, checking the ground once, twice, and then a third time.

          "You find something?" Larabee ventured, watching the tracker work with a confused frown.

          Vin straightened slowly, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. "Ain't sure." He wiped away the sweat gathering on his upper lip, then scrubbed his eyes with the balls of his hand.

          Chris and Ezra exchanged worried glances. Now that was truly worrisome – more so than Tanner's odd movements, or lack of interest in food and conversation of any kind. They had _never_ seen the young tracker stumped before.

"So, what do we do next?" the gambler ventured.

          "Keep goin'," Vin replied with a weary sigh, and they mounted and headed out again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Later that same afternoon Vin recognized the landmarks and wondered out loud if the three renegades they were following might not have tried to use the unique formation to double back on them. And he was right.

The trail they were currently following passed by a narrow rock ledge that angled away parallel to the ridge of the mountain instead of cutting across it like most. The spur this created curved sharply away from the main trail and passed out of sight for several hundred feet. And, best of all – or so the renegades must have thought – the spot where the spur left the trail was easily concealed with a couple of uprooted shrubs and a few handfuls of desert sand.

But Vin had lived among the Kiowa and the Comanche, and he'd hunted buffalo while living with the northern cousins of the men they were now tracking. He recognized all the tricks the renegades had used to conceal their passage, and for that Chris and Ezra were eternally grateful, because, if he hadn't, they all probably would have ended up dead.

Tanner veered around the spur and came in behind the renegades, getting the drop on them and pushing them right into where Chris and Ezra waited, but they still fought like the warriors they were. In the end of the short but pitched battle, the peacekeepers prevailed, killing all three of the Apaches and escaping with only minor injuries.

They tied the bodies of the dead men to the backs of their ponies and rode on, heading for Rudy Wells.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

As the sun dipped low in the west, the three men guided their horses over to a stand of stunted trees growing where the rock-ledge path they had been following broadened out.

Larabee swung down, saying, "I'm going to fix us some hot supper tonight."

Tanner grimaced as he tethered his horse and started to unbuckle his cinch. "Ain't hungry," he said, his voice dulled by pain.

Chris let the subject drop, but he fixed enough hot beans for three, and plenty of coffee, hoping the smells might rekindle Tanner's appetite.

Vin finished caring for his horse, then walked over and sat down across from Larabee at the campfire. He sat absolutely still for a long moment, staring at the food, and then apparently decided he might be hungry after all.

But he didn't eat much.

"I'll take first watch," Tanner announced as soon as he was finished.

"If you're not feeling well, perhaps you should get some rest," Ezra suggested and Chris nodded.

"Yer gonna make a real good mama someday, Ezra." And over the gambler's resulting splutter, the tracker added, "Hell, 'til m' innerds settle some I ain't goin' t' be able t' sleep, so y' both might as well get what y' c'n."

"That bad?" Chris asked, his worry climbing again.

"Felt better," the tracker replied and then added immediately, "felt worse, too." Then, with a wordless shrug, he stood and left the fire.

Larabee watched him go, a worried frown on his face as he tried to string together the clues he'd been gathering over the past couple of days. Tanner was in pain, that much was clear. His appetite was gone, he didn't seem to be sleeping well, and his belly was giving him trouble. And, as he continued to watch the tracker at his horse, he realized Vin's movements still weren't quite right. Tanner stood too slowly and walked too carefully, almost like he'd had too much to drink. And it wasn't sore muscles, either. They'd both been saddle sore and beaten up enough times for Larabee to recognize what that would have looked like. Whatever this was, it was something unusual. And that was where his worry came from. Unusual in this harsh land more often than not meant dead.

"I could try to talk some sense into him," Ezra said quietly, having watched Larabee's careful scrutiny of the tracker.

Chris shook his head. "Ain't gonna listen to either one of us."

"That doesn't mean we shouldn't try," the gambler retorted.

When Tanner returned to the fire with his bedroll, Chris braced himself for an argument and said, "I think we ought to get you to town, have Nathan take a look at you…"

"'M fine, Chris."

"You're not much of a liar, Mr. Tanner," Ezra stated.

Vin flashed him a warning glower, clearly not happy about the direction the conversation was taking. But neither man would be deterred.

"You're not fine," Larabee said.

"How much longer do you think you'll be able to ride?" Standish questioned.

The tracker's eyes narrowed and he pulled his knees a little closer to his chest and rested his arms on them. "Reckon as long as I need to," he stated flatly, then leaned forward and tossed a handful of dirt onto the tiny campfire, nearly putting it out. "Get some sleep, boys."

Ezra sighed softly, knowing he'd lost that round to the tracker.

Larabee knew it too, but it wouldn't be the last. He could be just as stubborn as Tanner. "All right… damn stubborn Texan… wake me up when you're ready to turn in."

Tanner didn't look up, he just nodded.

Larabee lay down and closed his eyes, but he didn't fall asleep right away. He went over the path he thought the others might have taken when they had all split up back on Monday, and decided that there was a good chance they might have reached Rudy Wells today. He guessed that they'd stay there tonight – and maybe one more night as well – before they headed back to Four Corners. With a little luck, they might be able to catch up to the men there tomorrow, and the healer could get a look at Tanner.

He'd see to it they Vin took the quickest trail to the small community in the morning. Decision made, he allowed himself to sleep.

Ezra, on the other hand, knew that the increasing worry he felt would keep him from the welcome embrace of Morpheus, so he pulled the book he was carrying out of his saddlebags and lay there and read.

He heard Tanner shift with a soft grunt, then heard the resulting half-swallowed gasp as well. He frowned, but he knew he wouldn't be able to wring any more cooperation out of the man than Larabee had already gotten – which was none. _Damn stubborn fool_ , the gambler thought.

Vin was looking out at the darkness, which gave the gambler the opportunity to study the tracker more carefully. The pinched corners of his eyes spoke loudest to the pain the man was in, and lips, pressed into a thin line, echoed it.

More than anything, Ezra wished he could reach out and sooth away whatever it was that was causing the man distress, but he knew such an action would only be rebuffed. Pity, too, because he longed to feel the roughness of the man's stubbled face, the texture of the man's shoulder-length hair, the hardness of muscles under flesh…

Images from that day flashed though his mind – the kisses, the touches, the way their bodies had fit together…

He huffed out a soft breath and closed his book, knowing he had to stop indulging in such flights of fancy. He returned the book to his saddlebags, and, turning over, found as comfortable a spot as he could, and fell soundly asleep.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin gazed out at the darkness and shivered. For most of his life he'd embraced the darkness as a friend and an ally, especially after he'd taken up bounty hunting. When he wanted to sneak up on someone, nothing could beat the night. But when there was a need to keep quiet and listen, combined with a cold, unrelenting nausea, then the darkness suddenly became very long, lonely and threatening.

          The tracker rested his cheek against the cool face of a boulder as he unscrewed his canteen cap and then took a sip of the tepid water inside. It didn't help, though. Nothing seemed to be helping any more. He knew the pressure in his guts would continue to build until he threw up, then ease for a little while before starting to build again.

He couldn't understand why his belly wouldn't behave itself. There was nothing left to cause it any upset, that much, at least, he was sure of. A case of grippe would come with a fever, but he didn't have a fever. In fact, he was cool and clammy. It just made no sense to him, and it scared him. He'd seen too many of his Indian family killed by disease over the years; he'd rather go by a bullet.

          Vin pulled his blanket up over his shoulders and wrapped his arms around his stomach. It wouldn't be quite so bad if the pain would just let up a little, but it persisted, sharp and burning, hour after hour, wearing him down until it felt like he had no strength left to draw upon to fight it.

He thought briefly about waking Larabee, but there was no point to that. He might as well let Chris sleep. Besides, no matter what the stubborn gunslinger said, he still hadn't completely healed from the wound he himself had suffered when one of Ella Gains' men had shot him in the final battle before the bitch had escaped. He was doing better than the tracker, that was true, but Vin still knew the gunman could use the additional sleep.

          There would be no sleeping for him, not with the pain so strong and constant, but it was so damn cold and quiet. If he didn't hear Chris and Ezra occasionally shift in their sleep, he might have believed that the world had disappeared, leaving him to suffer all alone in the darkness. He would rather have one of his friends sitting next to him, but he'd always suffered alone and, when it came right down to it, he was afraid to ask for Larabee's help, afraid that if he asked for too much, he would find himself alone again. He knew that wouldn't happen, but still the fear remained.

          Something inside cramped again and Vin bit back a low moan, then took a deep breath and forced himself to relax as much as he could. It wasn't easy, but he managed it after a time. Maybe he _should_ wake Chris, he thought again. More than anything he wanted to held in the man's arms, where at least he'd feel safer…

          No. There was nothing Chris could do and it would only set the man to worrying again, and he seemed to be doing plenty of that already. It would be better in the morning, when it was warmer.

He tugged the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Maybe that was it, he decided. It was just the chill that was just making him feel so bad. Once the sun came up, he'd feel better. He doubted he could feel much worse.

          But the time, he knew, would pass slowly.

He sighed softly and glanced over at Larabee, letting his gaze caress the man's face. It still scared him sometimes when he realized just how important the man was to him. He loved Chris more than he had anyone else in his life, and the power of that love both awed and frightened him. Like a flash flood that came up out of nowhere, it could sweep away all of his usual reactions and leave him at the mercy of a smile, a touch, a single word…

He let Larabee get away with things he never would have tolerated before.

Like what he already knew Chris had planned for tomorrow. Larabee would set them on a direct course for Ruby Well, hoping that they'd meet up with Nathan and the others… And if Nathan and the others were already gone, headed back to Four Corners, he knew Larabee would drag him off to see the local doctor. And he'd go, too, because he wouldn't want to cause the man any more worry…

 _Love turned grown men into… kittens_ , he decided grumpily.

He turned his attention away from Larabee and looked over at the gambler. Ezra was worried about him, too.

That fact was a little surprising. He'd really expected a drift between himself and the gambler after Ezra had caught him and Chris together, but, if anything, Ezra had seemed friendlier since then… It had confused him, until today.

          Today he'd seen the worry in the man's eyes, and something more. And, thanks to Chris, he now understood what that something was: love.

          That was a real surprise, but he'd been able to hide it easily enough. Pain, he'd discovered, was a good smokescreen.

          He wasn't rightly sure what he thought about the gambler's feelings, but he knew he had some of his own for the man. Hell, he had an honest affection for all five of the other peacekeepers, and he could admit – to himself, at least – that he was in love with Larabee, but Ezra…?

          If left him feeling more than a little… unfaithful, but he had to admit, he had more feelings for the gambler than he'd thought he had, and more curiosity about what the man might be like in bed than was probably safe. But both were there, and he knew he'd probably have to talk to Larabee about them – _after_ he'd done some more pondering on the ideas.

          But he couldn't help but wonder what Chris would say. He'd seen the gunman eyeing Ezra after he'd told Larabee about the gambler catching them together out in the barn. He wasn't quite sure how to read the looks Chris had been tossing Ezra's way, and he'd been planning to ask the man about them, but then the raids had started and they'd gone after the renegades…

          Well, maybe once they were back home again…

          He smiled thinly at the thought: Home. It was something he hadn't expected to find, but he had. Home and love and friendship… What more could a man want or need?

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Friday morning**

 

Vin jerked awake when something unidentified skittered over his boot. What little he could see through the trees was starting to show traces of grey. _Mornin' already?_ he wondered as he scanned the clearing, his heart racing. Chris and Ezra were still rolled up in their blanket and sound asleep, and the horses were yanking up sparse grass and underbrush where they were tied. Whatever had awakened him was nowhere in sight.

Breathing a soft sigh of relief, he relaxed. He was a damn fool, falling asleep like that. Mistakes like that could get him killed, especially being a wanted man like he was. But it seemed that no harm had been done – this time. And for that he thanked whatever spirits or gods might be looking out for him – if any.

          He pushed himself up onto one knee and immediately doubled over when his stomach coiled tightly in protest. Then there was an explosion of pain in his gut, stripping away his breath and his awareness.

The next thing Vin knew, Larabee was holding him in a seated position, the tracker leaning heavily against Chris' chest. Ezra was in front of him, a cool, damp cloth in his hand, and pressed to Vin's forehead.

As his insides began to still, Tanner sagged back against Chris, more grateful for the support than he ever imagined he could be. "Thanks," he rasped out to Ezra as he reached up to take the cloth, wiping his own face, his hand shaking slightly as he did.

          Chris continued to hold him until he was finished, then he sat back, sitting on his heels and studying him. "Why didn't you wake one of us?" he asked, the fear quaking through his own guts obvious in his expression and tone of voice.

          "Weren't sleepy," Tanner rasped, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

          "Vin, how long have you been getting ill like this?" Ezra asked softly, but there was an iron core to the tone that made it clear that he would have an answer – or else. And given Larabee's look, the gunman would help Standish get it, too.

          "Jist a little bit. Told y' I should 'a skipped them beans fer supper last night."

          Larabee's look was skeptical. "I'll go get the horses ready. You rest. We're getting you to Nathan today." He looked at Ezra, adding, "Stay with him."

          "I will," the gambler assured him.

Vin was too miserable to argue, so he watched as the gunslinger fed the horses the last of the oats from their saddlebags, then saddled them.

When Larabee finished, Tanner tossed the cloth to Standish and carefully climbed to his feet, using the large rock he'd been leaning against for part of the night to help support and steady himself. Ezra stayed at his side, just in case.

Vin took a few tentative steps toward the horses, then stopped and carefully stretched. It felt good to move around after sitting still for so long, but he quickly discovered that he couldn't straighten up all the way; it simply hurt too much.

"Can I be of assistance?" Ezra asked him.

The tracker shook his head.

Chris broke the camp and then walked over to join him, asking, "You ready?"

Vin nodded, allowing Ezra to walk him over to the waiting horses. Just looking at his saddle, Tanner knew that lifting his foot to step into the stirrup was going to be a challenge, and he was right.

As Vin hauled himself up and started to swing his right leg over the saddle, molten agony shot through him. It felt like someone had driven a white-hot poker deep into his guts. He gasped sharply and pitched forward, falling to the ground. The hard landing jarred thought and awareness out of him and, for an endless moment, nothing existed but the pain, unlike anything he had ever felt before, and he had hurt, _badly_ , many times in the past.

It just didn't seem possible to hurt _this_ bad without being dead. He heard a low, tormented moan, and it took him a few moments to realize he was making the sound. He tried to stop himself, but he had no control over his body, none whatsoever.

Slowly, the agony eased to a burning throb in his right side, still bad, but tolerable at last. He frowned, realizing for the first time that somebody was shaking him, speaking to him.

          "Vin? Vin, what the hell's wrong? Damn it, Tanner, talk to me," Larabee growled.

          The tracker took as deep a breath as he dared, shivering as he let it out in a rush. Mornings were sure getting cold these days. "'M fine," he managed to breathe.

          "Could've fooled me," Chris replied, tone half-annoyed, half-worried.

"What happened?" Ezra asked, and Tanner realized that the gambler was kneeling next to him, looking as worried as Larabee.

          "Ain't sure," Vin said. "Couldn't get m' leg over m' saddle." He tensed against the chills that began to wrack his body and tried to keep his tone light. "Hell, fellas, ain't sure I c'n get on m' horse."

          "Yes, you can." Larabee's positive tone didn't match the worried look on his face.

"We'll find a way," Standish added.

          Vin nodded, leaning into Chris' support as the gunman helped him to his feet. He stumbled a couple of steps forward, but caught himself and managed a grin. "Neither 'a ya got any ideas?"

          Ezra did. And, thank goodness, Tanner's usually cantankerous horse was willing to go along with it.

The gambler helped Vin step up onto a rock while Chris steadied him, and then guided the tracker's leg as Vin carefully slid into his saddle.

Once he was settled, and his stomach had stopped trying to twist itself into knots, Tanner forced himself to sit up as straight as he could, ground his teeth together tightly and concentrated on staying right where he was while Chris led Peso and Pony out onto the trail, the renegades’ ponies, still carrying their burdens, tied in a line secured to Chaucer's saddle horn.

          It was more than a little embarrassing for a ride down an easy trail to become a trial by ordeal but, as the miles passed, Vin began to suspect that every muscle in his body must be connected directly to the throbbing ache that had settled in his right side. Any pull or twitch would set off an eruption of agony that had him hunching over his saddle horn, his fingers wrapped tightly around it to hold himself in the saddle as he rode the pain out. And, worse still, the occasional jarring by his horse's usually smooth gait aggravated his queasiness, and he was forced to stop as he got sick. Vin knew that bothered both Chris and Ezra, not to mention the horses, but he just couldn't get his stomach under control no matter how resolute he was about it.

So, by the time a few hours had passed, he was more than ready to ask the two men to shoot him where he sat, to put him out of his misery. But that would have required speech, and he was too weak to even attempt that. All he could do was hang on and hope that whatever Spirits had been looking after him thus far would see him through this trouble as well.

          To pass the time, and to occupy his thoughts, Vin kept his gaze fixed on Larabee's back, grateful as he never had been before that he wasn't alone, and that he had friends so close at hand. It was far more comforting than he'd ever expected, and his silent gratitude caused tears to fill his eyes, blurring his vision.

          Ezra stayed alongside him, or behind, no doubt keeping a close eye on how well he was managing to stay in the saddle.

          Vin decided that, if he could have a single wish granted right then, he'd wish he was lying in a big bed, somewhere safe, nestled safely between the two men trying to take care of him. That, he was sure, must truly be what Heaven was – being surrounded by love and care and warmth and the presence of the two men who made his own body want…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Chris and Ezra listened and watched as Vin suffered in silence and tried to come up with something – _anything_ – that might help him. But neither man knew what to do.

Of all the emotions, helplessness was the one that galled Larabee most, and he was determined to find some way to ease Tanner's pain.

He finally came up with something a few hours into the ride.

Pulling his gelding to a stop, Chris waited for Peso and the other horses to come to a halt as well. Then, stepping down from his saddle, Chris walked over and looked up at Tanner. "I've got an idea, you want to hear it?"

          Vin nodded, looking at least as miserable as he must feel. Chris told him what he had in mind, and the tracker nodded again, willing to try anything.

          Together, Ezra and Chris carefully eased Tanner's feet out of his stirrups, then shortened the lengths. With that done, they gently fitted Tanner's boots back into the stirrups.

Chris took a step back and asked, "That help at all?"

          Vin waited as his body adjusted to the change, then he nodded. "Reckon it does. Thanks, Cowboy."

          Chris nodded, tenderly patting Tanner's leg, then swung back into his saddle and waited for Ezra to do the same. He clucked to his horse and they set off again, heading straight for Rudy Wells.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The two me kept a close eye on Vin as the day wore on, the tracker's condition worsening with each passing hour. They stopped whenever they saw Tanner's stomach was about to rebel, waiting until the dry heaves let up and they could continue on.

After each bout, they saw Tanner growing weaker, and both knew it wouldn't be too much longer before Vin wasn't able to keep himself on his horse.

Larabee dreaded that time, knowing Vin would fight him when he either had to tie him into the saddle or shift to riding double. It was hard for the younger man to ask for help, although Larabee suspected that it had far less to do with pride than it did with the simple fact Vin had been forced to do for himself almost his entire life.

As the sun drifted past its midpoint in the sky, Ezra voiced the worry Chris was feeling. "Do you think they'll still be there?"

Chris shrugged, knowing that they might not be going fast enough to reach Rudy Wells before Nathan and the others left, even if they left tomorrow morning, after sunrise. They needed to pick up the pace, but he wasn't sure Vin would be able to tolerate it.

          "Think you can take another hour or two?" he asked Vin.

          "Reckon so," Tanner rasped.

          Chris nodded and urged the horses to move a little faster, praying silently that Vin could just hang on a little longer. He was grateful that Ezra remained at Vin's side, ready to react if the tracker should pass out. He himself had been forced to fall back and ride at Vin's other side.

          The two men exchanged worried glances.

          "Isn't there anyplace closer?" the gambler asked.

          Chris shook his head, wishing that there was.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The light from the setting sun gave the tracker more color than he'd had all day, but it also showed that Tanner's mouth was nothing more than a tight line of stubborn determination. The tracker sat, hunched over his saddle horn, miserable, his strength all but gone.

The ride had cost Vin dearly, but there was nothing the two men could do about it.

"You want to rest for a bit?" Chris asked him.

          "No." Tanner looked up, sky-blue eyes unusually dull and unfocused. "Get off now… won't be gettin' back on."

          "Hungry?" Ezra asked.

          "As a bear after a long winter," Vin replied, "but if y' think 'm eatin'… yer a whole lot crazier 'n I think y' are."

          Ezra did his best to look affronted.

          "At least drink some water," Chris said with a slight smile, handing Vin a canteen. He had to admit, Ezra was making this a whole lot easier than the blond had expected. In fact, he seemed almost as worried as Larabee was, and that made Chris profoundly grateful.

          They all shared a drink, then started off down the wide wagon road that would take them around the easy slope of a low mountain pass.

          "Think we'll catch up to 'em?" Tanner asked softly, and Chris knew the tracker meant Nathan and the others.

          "Hope so."

          "Me, too," Tanner said, sending a bolt of fear straight through Larabee's heart. Tanner _never_ asked for or wanted help unless he was in a very bad way. That he was basically asking for it now was enough to leave the gunslinger shaking with dread. He glanced over at Standish and knew the gambler felt the same as he did.

          "I'm sure they will be waiting for us," Standish said, as much for Chris as for Vin.

          "Damn well better be," the gunman grumbled.

          This time it was Vin and Ezra who exchanged looks, both of them amused.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Four grim hours later a small cluster of lights appeared around the next bend. Rudy Wells, Chris knew and a sigh of relief escaped his lips. How Tanner had made it this far he wasn't sure, but he knew it must be a testament to the man's grit – and Josiah's claim that there really was a God in Heaven.

          Almost another hour later they finally rode into the small community of Rudy Wells. The saloons were the only businesses still open, although a light shone in the sheriff's office as well. Chris started for the first of the two saloons, hoping to find the other peacekeepers there, but as they passed by the door to the sheriff's office it opened and three men stepped out onto the boardwalk.

          "Chris," Vin hissed softly, his head dipping lower.

          Larabee looked over at the hunched man. "You all right?"

          "Those three," Tanner said, jerking his chin in the direction of the sheriff's office, "they's bounty hunters… know 'bout me."

"Keep going to the livery," Ezra added.

          Larabee clucked to his gelding, hurrying them all on to the livery. He would be very glad to drop the dead off with the undertaker. Dismounting at the large barn, he waited a moment and, when no one appeared, he opened the door and led his and Tanner's horses inside, leaving the others to Standish, who tied them to the corral outside. Vin stayed mounted.

"You be all right here if I go see whether the others are still in town?"

          "They's here," Vin rasped, jerking his chin to the right as he slowly pulled the Mare's Leg from its holster on his leg.

          Chris looked, spotting Apostle and Whiskey in two of the stalls. "All right, stay here, I'll be back as soon as I find 'em." He glanced over at Ezra, adding, "Stay with him."

          "I will," the gambler replied, his gun already in his hand.

          "They's prob'ly at the saloon," Vin said.

          "Probably," Larabee agreed, watching from the door of the livery as the three bounty hunters mounted and headed out of town in the direction they'd just come from. "They're leavin'."

          Tanner nodded, too tired to do anything more. Still, he'd keep the Mare's Leg in his hands, just in case, although he knew if he tried to fire it, the recoil would probably knock him right off his horse.

          "I'll be back before you know it," Chris added, getting another nod from the tracker.

          Larabee waited until the bounty hunters were out of sight, then hurried down the street to the largest of the two saloons. He paused outside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light before he stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the patrons. Josiah and Nathan were seated at a table in a corner, eating. Sanchez looked up as Larabee's gaze rested on him, then grinned a greeting and waved him over.

Chris crossed the room swiftly, saying, "Nathan, Vin needs you," as soon as he reached the pair.

          Both men stood, their meals instantly forgotten. "What's wrong?" the healer asked, frowning with concern.

          "Don't know. Come on," Larabee said, leading the way out of the saloon.

"I'll go see if there's a local doctor," Josiah said, veering off and heading for the sheriff's office once they were outside on the boardwalk.

Larabee looked at Nathan and said, "Hurry."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

At the livery, Nathan's practiced gaze swept over the hunched tracker, his frown deepening. "Vin?" he called, Tanner apparently not even noticing that they'd arrived.

"Nate?" Tanner rasped, his head jerking up, as did the Mare's Leg in his hands.

Jackson approached the tracker slowly, his hands held out so the man could see he was unarmed. He wasn't sure he wanted to reach out and touch Tanner until the man was more aware. "Vin, you all right?"

Tanner radiated the agony he was so clearly in. "'M powerful all-overish," he said softly, holstering the Mare's Leg.

Nathan nodded, moving closer. "Tell me where you're hurtin'."

"M' side," the tracker said, his voice as weak as he looked.

"Which one?"

"Right."

Larabee listened as the questions continued for a while longer. Then Josiah arrived and told them, "Medical man normally lives here in town, but he's up in Sheltonville. Sheriff says his wife might be able to help, though."

Chris nodded. "Let's get him over there."

Josiah roused the livery man, paying him for his care of their horses. At the same time, Nathan and Chris saddled the two geldings so they were ready to go.

The five regulators headed through town, stopping at the hotel long enough for Nathan and Josiah to fetch their saddlebags from the room they had shared, and then at the undertaker's to drop off the three dead Indians. The man wasn't happy about the late night business, but a few extra dollars from Ezra sent him on his way to deal with them.

Vin swayed dangerously with each step Peso took, and Chris and Nathan moved up as close as they dared on either side of the ill-tempered gelding, trying to make sure the tracker didn't fall. Josiah and Ezra followed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The doctor's house was at the far end of town, a two-story structure with a large porch running along the front. Larabee tied his and Vin's horse to a hitching rail at the front.

"I don't like it," Chris said quietly to Nathan. "He needs a doctor, not a doctor's wife."

Tanner's voice was barely a whisper. "Cain't ride no farther, Chris."

That comment sent a cold chill snaking down Larabee's back and he knew that this was as far as the tracker was going.

"Let's just get him inside, get a good look at him," Nathan said. "Then we can decide what to do. But he needs to be off Peso's back." He glanced up at Vin and asked, "Can you get down?"

Tanner nodded and started to move, but as soon as he did, he sagged with a strangled groan and toppled out of his saddle. Josiah was barely quick enough to catch the tracker before he hit the ground.

Carefully shifting his semi-conscious burden in his arms, the preacher headed straight for the house. "Not your finest moment, brother," he said softly.

"Sorry, J'isah," Vin mumbled, "powerful dizzy in m' head."

Josiah chuckled and shook his head. He hadn't realized Tanner was awake enough to hear him, but the tracker was obviously clinging tenaciously to consciousness. "No need to worry, brother."

"Put me down," the tracker managed when they reached the porch, and Sanchez did just that as Ezra clapped the brass knocker on the door three times, each rap a little louder than the last one.

A dog barked from somewhere inside the house and, a few moments later, they heard footsteps approaching the door. An older woman in a plain blue gingham dress opened it. She held a lamp in one hand, the other resting on the head of the dog, a large collie-like animal, who wagged his tail in greeting.

Josiah and Nathan both removed their hats, and Vin lifted his hand so he could touch his finger to the brim of his. Larabee, however, just said, "Ma'am, we're sorry to disturb you so late, but our friend is very sick."

"The sheriff thought you might be able to help," Josiah added, hoping to allay any fears she might have at finding four strange men on her porch in the middle of the night.

"Well, yes, please, come in," she said, opening the door wider. "I'll go wake Fredrick and we'll see what we can do to help your friend." She set the lamp she carried on a small table beside a bench in the hallway. "You can wait here for a moment," she said, seeing the way Vin shuffled into the house. The dog trotted away at her side.

Vin let out a sigh of relief as he settled himself on the bench.

"It feel better to sit down?" Nathan asked, hoping to distract Tanner from the pain that seemed to hold him in its grip. He sat next to the tracker and eased the man's hide coat off as carefully as he could.

Vin nodded, unable to respond as the agony flared, tightening the black ring encroaching upon his vision, narrowing it to a pinpoint.

"Tell me how you're feeling?" the healer queried worriedly, seeing the tracker sway, his face turning a sickly shade of grey.

"Bad," was the softly rasped reply, then Vin gasped and pressed both of his hands to his right side, holding himself as still as he could and trying not to breathe any more deeply than he absolutely had to. Finally, after several long moments, he relaxed just slightly and slumped back against the wall, a light sheen of sweat coating his face. His body shook with exhaustion and he panted shallowly.

Jackson gingerly touched the tracker's sleeve. "Vin?"

"Jist don't let up, Nate," Vin moaned faintly, looking and sounding like he was at the end of his endurance.

Jackson's lips pressed into a thin line. This wasn't good. Vin _never_ protested, even when he should. To actually hear the tracker complain like this frightened the healer more than he wanted to admit.

Seeing the resulting look on Nathan's face, Chris sat down on Vin's other side, his hand coming up to rest lightly on the tracker's shoulder. "Hang on, pard," he said quietly, hearing footsteps coming back down the hall. "Even if the doctor isn't here, maybe his wife can do something to help the pain."

"We will most certainly try, you can rest assured of that," the old woman said as she reached them. Beside her was a black man, several years younger than Nathan.

"Now, what seems to be the problem here?" she asked, hazel eyes focused on Vin.

Tanner saw her gaze and started to stand, but the old woman reached out and lightly touched his shoulder, keeping him seated. "No reason to pile on the agony for courtesy's sake. I'm Anabell Griffiss, Dr. Benjamin Griffiss's wife, and this is Fredrick LaCroix, Benjamin's assistant. My husband is out of town this night, but I can send Timothy to the telegraph office to summon him back, if necessary."

"We'd appreciate it, ma'am," Nathan said and quickly made the introductions, although he was careful to omit Vin's last name before he added, "We're peacekeepers, from Four Corners, been out chasing some Apache renegades who came up from Mexico."

Fredrick stepped up to Vin, saying, "If yuh can walk, sir, I'll take yuh into the examinin' room. Yuh can lie down, and Mrs. Griffiss can get a better look at yuh."

"'M real sorry t' disturb yer sleep, ma'am," Vin rasped as Chris and Nathan helped him to his feet. Too weak to walk unaided, Tanner leaned heavily on the gunslinger, who wrapped his arm around the tracker's shoulders to keep him on his feet.

Seeing Vin hesitate to take a step, Josiah moved to the younger man's side. Then, after a look at Larabee, he reached down and scooped the tracker up into his arms.

"Aw hell, J'siah, I c'n walk," Tanner complained weakly, but the words had no conviction in them, the tracker no longer actually sure he could. The hallway looked longer than a rough mile in the middle of a blizzard.

"I know you can, brother," Sanchez replied kindly, "but there's no need. It's just a short way, and you're not too heavy a burden."

Vin nodded, allowing himself to relax as much as he dared while the big preacher followed Fredrick and Nathan to another room near the end of the hallway.

Chris and Ezra trailed behind them with Mrs. Griffiss.

"My friend's been sick for two days, and it's been gettin' worse," Larabee told her.

Josiah entered the room and laid Vin on the examining table while Fredrick lit the lamps near the table.

"I used to be my husband's nurse," Mrs. Griffiss said, getting her first good look at the tracker, "until my hands became so knotted I couldn't be of any aid." She glanced down at Vin and said, "Now, why don't you tell me what's wrong so I'll know if we need to wire the doctor."

"His stomach has been giving him considerable pain for two days," Ezra supplied.

"Three," Vin corrected him. He fidgeted for a long moment, then asked, "Think y'all c'n wait outside?"

Larabee hesitated, wondering what it was that Vin didn't want him to hear.

Seeing Chris' hesitation, the old woman added, "If it'll put your mind at ease, I've worked at my husband's side for well over thirty years."

"Yes, ma'am," Larabee said, his gaze locked with Tanner's. Then he glanced over at Nathan, who nodded. He would be staying, no matter what Vin said. "We'll go talk to the sheriff; tell him about the renegades," he said, then turned and left, Josiah and Ezra following him, the gambler's hand resting on the gunslinger's shoulder for support.

Once the men were gone Mrs. Griffiss asked, "Do you want to tell me whatever is it you didn't want your friends to hear and worry on now?"

"This is worse 'n any bellyache I ever had," Vin said, glancing Nathan's way. "Been bringin' up all m' food fer two, maybe three days. An' m' guts was runnin' real bad, too, 'til I run outta food."

"And you hid all this from your friends?"

"Tried to, ma'am," he replied. "Didn't want t' put a worry on 'em. Hell, Larabee'll jist blame himself fer not seein' how bad it was if'n he hears."

"Well, I suppose that was awfully thoughtful of you, but I'd be willing to wager that your friends would've rather known, and helped you." Tanner's cheeks turned rosy and she patted his shoulder. "What's done is done. You just lie there and rest a little." She looked at Fredrick. "If you can get his clothes off I'll see what I can see."

Nathan helped Fredrick undress Vin, both men going slowly so they didn't jar the tracker too much.

"You trained as a doctor?" Jackson asked the younger man as they worked.

Fredrick shook his head. "Oh, no, suh," he replied, his voice more thickly accented than Ezra's. "But Dr. Griffiss, he shows me lots o' things. I help him day and night now. I hope to attend medical school in Paris in a few more years. You?"

"Was a stretcher-bearer in the Union Army, picked up what I could, worked as an army medic for a time, too, but now I'm just a healer."

"From Four Corners, you said?" Mrs. Griffiss asked as she carefully palpitated Tanner's abdomen.

Nathan nodded, looking slightly surprised.

"I thought your name sounded familiar. Benjamin and I have heard good things about you, Mr. Jackson," she explained when she saw Nathan's reaction. "We meant to look you up once we got good and settled here, but I haven't been strong enough to make the trip." She met Nathan's eyes and asked, "You know what this is?"

"Ain't sure, ma'am," Nathan admitted. "But I got an idea. You?"

"Sadly, I believe I do."

The healer hesitated a moment, his heart beginning to beat faster, then he asked softly, "Inflamed appendix?"

She nodded, her expression sad and worried. She turned to Vin and said, "Now, tell me _exactly_ when you first noticed that something was wrong."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Minutes passed slowly on the clock hanging in the hallway of the doctor's home, each minute watched carefully by the three men who had already returned from town. It was nearing 11 p.m.

A muffled yelp coming from the examining room brought Chris to his feet, but Josiah kept the gunslinger from heading straight into the room.

          A red-haired boy no older than fourteen appeared, carrying a tray with coffee.

          "Thank you, son," Josiah said, taking the cups from him.

          "Don't you worry none," he told them, his voice lightly accented. "Mrs. Griffiss is almost as good a doctor as the Doc is. She'll take good care of your friend, you'll see."

          "You have family here, son?" the preacher asked the boy, needing conversation to take his mind off the worry radiating from Larabee.

          "No, sir," the boy replied. "Was an orphan, back in Boston. Dr. Griffiss picked me out when I was but seven years of age. Been helping him and Mrs. Griffiss ever since. When they come west, I come with 'em gladly."

"Benjamin saw a notice in a medical journal and answered it," Mrs. Griffiss added, walking up to join them. "There are four towns hereabouts who decided they needed regular access to a physician. The people here aren't wealthy, but the mines are doing well enough to pay us for essentials and they built this house for us and gave Ben an office in each of the towns he visits. We grow our own food, and I do a little scribbling for the papers back in Boston, so we have a good life here."

          "So your husband's rather like a circuit preacher," Josiah said, nodding over the inventive solution.

          "Yes. Yes, I suppose he is," she agreed with a smile. "Benjamin makes his way to the three communities once every month, and whenever there's an emergency, of course. Usually Fredrick goes with him, but I was feeling poorly when he left this time, so Frederick stayed here with me."

          Chris let the conversation wash over him, his concentration on the closed door of the examination room down the hall. He'd seen the tracker shot, stabbed, beaten and tortured, and Vin had never once asked him to leave him; if anything he'd been grateful for Larabee's company. So why had he sent him away this time? Did he have a feeling he might be dying? Was he trying to spare Chris another tragic loss?

          "Timothy, dear, I need a bucket of the cold water from the barrel on the back porch," Mrs. Griffiss said, then she looked at the men and added, "I think your friend has an inflamed appendix."

          "Appendix? The Doc will want to know, ma'am," the teen said, turning back, his eyes rounded with excitement. "You want me to telegraph him, Missis?"

          "Yes, dear, but _after_ you bring me that water," she said, then to the peacekeepers suggested, "Why don't you go on down and see him? I need to fetch a few things, and I know he'd appreciate the company."

          Larabee led the way back to the examining room. Inside, they saw Tanner was still lying on the examining table, but he was only wearing his long johns now. Blue eyes were closed.

"How's he doing?" Chris asked Nathan.

          "Got a 'pendicitis," Vin replied for the healer, his eyes opening. He frowned, not understanding what the devil the word meant, but he didn't think it sounded good.

          Timothy came in carrying a bucket of cold water, which he set on a small table that was next to the wall not far from the table where Vin lay. Mrs. Griffiss was right behind him, carrying a white enamel pan in one hand, a stack of towels filling her free arm. "I'm very sorry, Vin, but I'm going to make you very uncomfortable in just a moment. And, since I am, I think I should explain why." She gave him a wink, a twinkle in her eyes. "Just so your friends here don't decide to shoot me."

          "Won't happen, ma'am," Vin rasped, glancing at his friends.

          "Still, I want you to understand what's happening inside of you," she said, smiling at the serious tone he'd used. "Might make it a little less frightening." She walked over to a shelf of books, pulled one down and carried it back to the examining table.

          "Can you help him?" Chris asked her as she passed.

          "Not very much right now, but I think Benjamin will be able to once he's back." She leafed through the book and then opened it so all of the peacekeepers could see, but she spoke directly to Vin. "This is what your intestines look like, Vin. Food goes down to your stomach, then through the small intestines…" Her finger traced the path. "…and into the large intestine. That's where you find the appendix. Sometimes an appendix becomes infected, although we don't really understand why, and when it does, it swells. I believe the swelling and the infection are what's causing your discomfort."

          Vin rubbed gingerly at his side, which still ached furiously, although not as badly as when he'd been on horseback. "What's it do?" he asked her a little tentatively. "When it ain't infected."

          She smiled indulgently. "We don't really know that, either. But we do know that it's not essential for life. People who have lost their appendix have lived perfectly normal lives without it."

          "Lost it?" Tanner asked her, his brow furrowing worriedly. "Y' mean they got gut-shot?"

          "No, not necessarily," she replied enigmatically. "In any event, the best thing for you right now is for us to slow the infection's progress. A snow or an ice pack would be best, but lacking those as we are, we will just have to make do with what we do have." She slid a dry towel under Vin's right side, then took another and dipped it into the pan, filled with the water Timothy had brought in, soaking it thoroughly. "I'm afraid this is going to be rather cold," she warned the tracker. "Just grit your teeth and bear with it, I promise it will help the pain."

          Despite her warning, Tanner's eyes still flew wide open when she laid the cloth on his stomach, just above his right hip. "Damn!" he hissed, glaring daggers at the other peacekeepers who seemed more than ready to allow the old woman to torture him, but he still apologized for his cursing. "Sorry, ma'am."

          "That's quite all right. I know this probably doesn't feel like much of an improvement to you right now but, believe me, it has saved lives."

Fredrick stepped up beside her and unfolded a light blanket that he then draped over the tracker. "This'll help a little, suh."

"Try to get some rest, dear," she told Tanner. "I have to write out a note for Timothy to send to Dr. Griffiss." She shifted her attention from Tanner to Nathan, asking the healer, "Can you stay and help Fredrick? We need to keep changing that towel so that area stays as cold as we can make it."

          Jackson nodded, hoping he could talk Tanner into cooperating. If he couldn't, Chris probably could. But then, given the way the tracker was feeling, Nathan doubted he'd put up much of a fuss – this time.

          Mrs. Griffiss met Chris' eyes, holding the gunman's gaze for a moment, then nodded toward the door before she started to leave. Larabee immediately followed her and as soon as they reached the end of the hallway, well out of earshot of the men still in the examining room, Larabee stopped her. "You said that's saved people's lives before. Is this really that dangerous?"

          The old woman nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so. The cold packs will buy him some time, enough for Benjamin to return and perform the surgery, I hope."

          That wasn't good enough for the gunslinger. "No offense, ma'am, but he's sick and hurting. Can't you just do what needs to be done, or talk Nathan through it?"

          "I need my husband to confirm my diagnosis. Benjamin has seen more appendicitis than most doctors. And he's seen most of his patients through it, too."

          Larabee frowned. "Seen them through?"

          "Just how dangerous is this?" Ezra asked, surprising both of them. "My apologies, but I wanted to inquire as to Mister T—uh, Vin's condition."

          The old woman glanced down for a moment, then raised her chin and met Ezra's stormy green eyes. "Most people as sick as that young man in there do not survive," she said, looking from the gambler to Chris.

          All the color drained from Larabee's face and it was suddenly hard for him to breathe. She instantly grabbed his arm and guided him to the seat Vin had used and had him sit. He looked up at her, pain so obvious in his hazel eyes that she winced slightly.

"Ma'am, are you tellin' me Vin's going to die?"

          "No. Oh, no, dear," she said, reaching out to rest her hand on the gunslinger's arm, giving it a supportive squeeze. "There's a very good chance my husband can save him. Benjamin was very good friends with Dr. Fitz, who learned the technique for the surgical removal of an inflamed appendix while he was in Europe. Benjamin proved very adept at the procedure.

"Now, I won't lie to either of you, the surgery has its risks, but it's nowhere nearly as risky as doing nothing. Do nothing and he will most certainly die." She sighed heavily. "I have only assisted my husband in the surgery, and I can no longer even do that with my hands the way they are. If things take a turn for the worse, I will attempt to talk Mr. Jackson through the procedure, but I pray that won't become necessary. It will take Benjamin two days, perhaps three to return, but I'm confident Vin should be able to hold out that long if we keep the cold packs in place and make sure he keeps taking small amounts of water."

          "I hope you're right, ma'am," Chris said, looking back at the closed door, his body shaking slightly with a chill that squeezed his heart like a tight fist.

"I'll tell the others," Ezra said.

          She nodded and they parted ways, Chris and Ezra returning to the examining room, the old woman to write the note to her husband.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 

          Vin closed his eyes and groaned, the continuing pain and new cold making him almost as uncomfortable as he'd felt on horseback. But then, lulled by the slow relief of the hot throb, he found himself drifting in and out of a light sleep until he heard Mrs. Griffiss step back into the room.

He forced his eyes open, finding that Larabee and Ezra had returned as well, but he hadn't heard him. Ezra had been talking to Nathan and Josiah, too. He frowned, knowing that whatever had passed between the men had left them rattled.

Larabee didn't say anything to him, but then the gunslinger didn't need to – the fear in his eyes said it all.

Tanner swallowed thickly, his own anxiety rising. He was sicker than he understood. He tried to put on a good face, but then the pain in his side flared again and he knew a brave front wasn't worth the effort it would cost him. He was in a bad way, and nothing was going to change that – not unless Dr. Griffiss could help him somehow.

          He watched as Mrs. Griffiss set a tray down on the desk. "I had Timothy put your horses in the barn," she told them. "Have some coffee, gentlemen. It looks to be a long night."

          When she left them again, Nathan asked Chris, "So she's thinkin' her husband can get back in time to perform the operation?"

          Chris nodded, unable to meet Tanner's eyes.

          "Damn," Vin sighed. "They got t' cut on me t' fix this?"

          "He'll take Vin's appendix out?" Josiah asked. "Like they would a bullet?"

          Nathan nodded. "Guessed that'd be what the doctor'd do. I read that they're doing it back East now; it's workin' pretty good, too."

          "What if I jist wait it out?" Vin asked hopefully. He was willing to endure a lot to avoid being under the knife.

          The healer shook his head sadly. "Ain't gonna get no better, Vin. It'll kill ya if they don't take it out in time."

          "In time?" Vin asked him, his heart beginning to beat a little faster.

          Nathan pursed his lips, not really wanting to explain, but he'd backed himself into a corner and he knew Tanner wasn't going to let him out of it until he explained. "This is just what I've read, ya understand," he said, gaze shifting from the tracker to the other three men. "What kills folks is the infection, bustin' out of the appendix and spreadin' through a man's guts."

          "Ah hell," Tanner moaned. "Ya mean it'll be like I got gut-shot?" He had seen men die horrible deaths after being gut-shot, or stabbed in the belly. And he had seen some of the Indians' more gruesome tortures. So the thought that he might die like that scared the tracker, badly. "Don't want no one cuttin' up m' guts, Nate, but I don't want t' die like a gut-shot man neither."

"You'll be fine," Nathan tried to assure the tracker.

          Tanner looked up at Jackson, asking, "Cain't you do it?"

          Nathan shook his head. "I've only read about the procedure, Vin. Dr. Griffiss, he's done it before, probably lots of times. He'll know what he's doing. He'll take good care of you."

          Vin nodded, knowing he had to find a way to escape the pain, one way or another. And it was clear Nathan was spooked about doing the operation himself, so he'd just have to wait for Dr. Griffiss to get back and do it.

          "You just lay there and do whatever Mrs. Griffiss tell you," Chris told the tracker, stepping up to the edge of the table and reaching out to rest his hand on the top of Vin's head. "We'll make sure the doc gets back here in time, I give you my word."

          Tanner nodded, enjoying the man's touch even if he did feel like crap. "That's good enough fer me."

          Chris gave him a small smile, hoping he could keep that promise.

          "We will make sure," Ezra added softly, green eyes locked for a moment with Larabee's.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Very early Saturday morning**

 

          Less than an hour later, Timothy, out of breath, returned from the telegraph office carrying two wires. One was from Buck, who had wanted to let Chris and the others know that they had made it back safely to Four Corners and that all was well there.

The second wire was from the doctor. Nathan saw Mrs. Griffiss frown as she read her husband's reply and asked her, "What is it, ma'am?"

          "Oh, dear. Mrs. Webber's baby was breech. She has puerperal fever."

"Childbed fever?" Nathan asked her.

She nodded. "Poor thing. Benjamin wants us to bring Vin to him."

          Jackson frowned. "Vin ain't in any condition to ride for two days, ma'am," he said before Chris or Ezra could.

          "No," Mrs. Griffiss said. "I realize that. I suppose the only thing to do is for you to take the wagon and get him to Benjamin."

          "Wagon?" Chris asked, not liking the sound of it.

"We could fill the bed with straw, pad that with plenty of blankets," Josiah suggested. "That should be a lot more comfortable than riding Peso would be."

          Mrs. Griffiss nodded. "We have a small feather mattress that should help as well."

          "Hell," Vin said, his hand pressed lightly against the cold towel on his abdomen, "'M feelin' some better; I c'n ride." He was tired and weak, and he still ached all over but, for the moment, the insistent, burning throb had died away to a dull ache, a great improvement as far as the tracker was concerned.

          "No," Chris and Mrs. Griffiss replied together.

          Tanner's gaze caught Larabee's and the blond stepped up to the side of the table. "Got t' be careful, Cowboy," the tracker said quietly. "Perdue brothers 're out there on the roads. They get a look at me, 'm good as dead."

          "You let me worry about them," Larabee said softly, making it clear that he would deal with the bounty hunters – permanently – if they gave the group any trouble.

          "Yuh should get started soon as the sun's up," Fredrick said. "I'll get some things together yuh might need. Timothy can show yuh which horses to hitch up."

"Timothy, come find me as soon as you're done. I'll make sure you have some food to take with you," Mrs. Griffiss offered. She looked at Fredrick, saying, "Maybe you should go with them."

"No, ma'am," the young black man said, shaking his head. "Dr. Griffiss never forgive me if I leave yuh here alone, yuh feeling poorly." He looked around at the men, adding, "I'm real sorry 'bout that."

"We'll be fine," Nathan assured him.

          "Aw hell," Tanner breathed, staring up at the ceiling, but not really seeing it. He took a deep breath, realizing that he didn't have a choice. He would have to go to the doctor, and if that also meant getting past a pair of bounty hunters, he would just have to trust his friends to protect him. It wasn't something he was used to doing, but he knew that these men would do everything they could to see him safely to the surgeon. He just hoped that they didn't have to pay for it with their lives. Vin knew he'd never be able to forgive himself if one of them died trying to protect him.

          There was a knock at the door and Timothy stepped back inside saying, "Telegraph come for Mr. Jackson."

          Nathan stepped over and took it. It was from Buck. The healer cursed softly, then turned to the other peacekeepers, saying, "Pair 'a idiots tried to rob Potter's. Mrs. Potter and Mary were both hurt…"

          "They need you back?" Josiah asked.

          The healer nodded, his gaze shifting to Vin.

          "Then go," the tracker said. "Mrs. Griffiss c'n tell Ezra and Chris what t' do."

          Chris didn't like it, but he nodded as well.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Dawn, Saturday morning**

 

          Josiah closed the tailgate of the Griffisses' wagon, peering over the side at the tracker. "You comfortable, brother?"

          "Like a babe in his mama's arms," Tanner replied, grinning up from his nest – a small feather mattress resting on a bed full of straw.

          Josiah grinned. Tanner was also covered with blankets, his head resting on a pair of pillows. He did look a little like a child, almost lost in a too-large bed. "Don't you worry now. Chris and Ezra will see to it you get to the doctor safe and sound."

          Vin nodded, knowing that the big man wouldn't be going along with them.

          "It'll all be fine," Josiah promised him. "Don't you worry."

          Another nod, but Tanner couldn't help but worry. The Perdue brothers were out there, his side was hurting again, and he was heading for a man who was going to cut up his guts. Still, two men – especially two as dim as the Perdues – wouldn't give Chris and Ezra much trouble. At least, he hoped they wouldn't.

          Chris climbed up onto the wagon seat. It had been a long time since he'd handled more than a pair, but a four-horse hitch and a light rig like this one made sense for the mountain roads they'd be traversing. This particular rig – a sturdy buckboard with steel hoops that could support a canvas cover if the weather turned bad – was the best thing he'd ever seen for carrying someone who was sick or hurt.

          "This sure is some rig," Josiah commented. He was mounted on his gelding now, waiting to head back to Four Corners with Nathan, just in case they ran into the troublesome bounty hunters on the way.

          "It's a modified ambulance," Nathan said as he climbed onto the back of his own horse. He recognized it from others he had seen during the war.

Fredrick nodded. "That's right. Dr. Griffiss brought it with him, all the way from Boston."

"How you feeling?" Nathan asked the tracker. "That towel still cold?"

          "'M fine," Tanner replied sleepily. "Towel's gettin' tolerable."

          "Then it's time to change it," Mrs. Griffiss said from where she stood at the side of the wagon, looking down at the tracker.

Ezra made short work of exchanging one towel for another, colder one.

          "I's afrid ya was gonna say that," Vin said, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as the icy material touched him. "Y' sure this is gonna help, ma'am?" he squeaked as he forced his eyes open.

          "I'm sure," the old woman replied. She met Ezra's eyes and added, "See if he can drink a little water. Be sure to keep giving him water or broth throughout the day."

          "Just a little right now," Nathan cautioned Tanner. "If ya can keep it down, Ezra can give ya some more in a little while."

          Vin nodded and took a couple of sips from the canteen the gambler held for him. "Thanks, Ez."

          "Try and get some rest," Standish told the tracker, pulling up the blanket to cover Vin's shoulders.

Mrs. Griffiss nodded in agreement. "I'm afraid the road won't be very smooth once you reach the mountains." She handed Ezra a small bottle of laudanum. She had shown him the correct dosages to use earlier.

He nodded, understanding only too well what she wasn't saying.

          Vin's eyes fell shut, the cold towel doing its job, dulling the pain in his side. And he was tired, about as tired as he could ever remember feeling. In a few moments, he was sleeping.

Chris looked back, checking on the tracker, grateful when he saw Tanner resting, his face free of pain for the first time in days. "Time to go," he said, clucking and slapping the reins against the horses' backs. The team started off.

"God's speed," Mrs. Griffiss said, standing with her hand on Timothy's shoulder, Fredrick right behind her, as they watched the men leave.

Once on the main road, Josiah and Nathan turned in one direction, the wagon taking the opposite.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Larabee set a pace that would push the horses without exhausting them too quickly. Ezra rode in the bed of the wagon behind him, gambler and gunslinger talking quietly now and then while Tanner slept.

"I wish Mr. Jackson had been able to remain," Ezra said at one point. "I simply do not know enough to be of any real help."

          "You're doin' plenty," Chris replied. "Just keep him as comfortable as you can."

          Ezra glanced down at Vin. "Mr. Tanner is a fighter. I am quite certain he will not give up. And I believe Mrs. Griffiss when she says her husband's capable of saving his life. He'll take out Vin's appendix and he'll be as good as new."

          "Hope you're right," Chris said softly.

 _Me, too_ , Ezra replied silently, his gaze shifting to Larabee's back. He had a bad feeling that if they lost Vin, Chris wouldn't be too far behind. He wasn't sure how, or why, but Vin Tanner was the heart of their group. Chris was their head, their leader, but Vin was their heart. And nothing could lose its heart and still survive. He already knew with certainty that he would not survive if he lost both men.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Mid-day, Saturday**

 

The tracker moaned softly, his eyes slowly blinking open. He looked up at the cloud-dotted sky and swallowed down the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Vin?" he heard Ezra call, but the man's voice sounded far away. "Vin, do you think you can drink some water?"

Tanner shook his head, knowing if he did, he'd lose the liquid as soon as it hit his stomach. "Don't feel s' good," he rasped.

Chris looked back over his shoulder, hazel eyes worried. "Should I stop?" he asked the gambler.

Ezra shook his head, moving closer and replacing the towel on Tanner's abdomen with a fresh, colder one.

Vin groaned as icy fingers seeped under his skin, spreading through his limbs like swiftly-growing vines. He shook with a chill and the gambler immediately replaced the blankets over the tracker, hoping that they would warm the man.

"Easy" Standish soothed, giving Vin's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I can see this isn't comfortable, but Nathan and Mrs. Griffiss said it was the best medicine we have for you."

Dulled blue eyes opened again. "'S gettin' worse," he breathed quietly, sluggish gaze shifting to Larabee's back.

"I know," Ezra replied just as softly. "Both said it will undoubtedly get worse, little by little. Try to sleep," he added, reaching out to rest his hand lightly on the top of the tracker's head.

Vin nodded slightly and closed his eyes, hoping he could sleep. And, a few moments later he slipped off.

"Ezra?" Chris called softly.

The gambler worked his way to the front of the wagon bed, just behind the driver's seat.

"How's he doing?" Larabee asked.

Ezra shook his head, saying, "I'm honestly not sure. There's no fever as far as I can determine, but the cold packs do not seem to be helping as much as they were earlier."

"Damn it," the blond hissed.

"I'm sure we'll reach Dr. Griffiss in time," the gambler said, giving Larabee's arm a little squeeze.

Chris nodded, but couldn't trust his voice so he refused to say anything.

"Perhaps we should press the horses a little harder," Ezra suggested, adding, "And pray."

Turning his attention back to the tracker, Ezra did the only thing he could think of, he reached out and began to run his hand lightly over the tracker's arm, speaking quiet words of encouragement as he did so.

Hearing the soft, continuous murmur coming from the bed of the wagon, Chris glanced back over his shoulder, catching sight of Ezra. A brief wave of jealousy rose and then quickly faded away. He knew the man's presence would be a benefit to Vin, and he couldn't deny the tracker anything that might make the ordeal better. In fact, he quickly found himself feeling grateful to the gambler.

Turning his attention back to the trail ahead of them, Chris tried to not to think about Standish, but the image of the gambler running his hand along Vin's arm remained and he soon found himself wondering what that touch might feel like. The very notion confounded him and he huffed out a sigh and tried to concentrate on the horses and the trail, but it was no use.

Much to his chagrin, Chris caught himself pondering what it might be like to watch Vin and Ezra together…

 _Must be gettin' crazy in the head_ , he scolded himself. He wasn't even sure he _liked_ the gambler…

No, that wasn't true. He liked Ezra, he just…

Hell, he'd never really been able to sort out his feelings for, and reactions to, Ezra P. Standish. And it wasn't getting any easier, either.

Vin, on the other hand, had been an open book to him from that first glance. He and Vin fit together in all the right ways, and when they didn't, they complimented each other.

Vin was comfortable, while Ezra… Well, Ezra wasn't.

And yet he'd gone out of his way to keep the gambler around… Why?

He didn't have an answer.

He smiled thinly to himself, remembering how Vin had once said that Ezra was the only one of the bunch who could give Chris a run for his money. At the time he'd thought Vin had meant with his guns, but that hadn't been the tracker's meaning at all. Standish, Tanner meant, was the only one who challenged Chris in nearly every damn way possible. The others had their own skills and talents, to be sure, but Ezra was another natural leader, as was Vin, but Vin had willingly submitted to Larabee's leadership.

Ezra… Well, Ezra made him work for it.

And there was something… reviving in that. The others watched his back, but Standish kept him on his toes.

Still, he couldn't imagine being with Ezra in the same way he was with Vin, but he was willing to admit, albeit reluctantly, that he was beginning to wonder what it might be like if the gambler were in the mix.

Not that he cared any less about Vin, but that same part of him that wanted to keep Standish around was making him wonder what it would be like…

And it didn't help that he already knew Vin would be amenable to the idea…

As long as Vin survived this…

As long as they took the gambler on, together…

He just didn't trust Ezra to play fair…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Sunday morning, dawn**

 

          The two peacekeepers pushed on through the night, only stopping when they had to let the horses rest, Chris and Ezra switching places a few times to give Larabee a chance to ride in the back with Vin and get some sleep.

Near dawn, as it began to grow colder, Chris unrolled another blanket and laid it over the tracker, who was sleeping, albeit restlessly. He sat for a long moment, just watching the sleeping man, noting the way Vin grimaced and frowned when the pain grew more intense.

Reaching out, Larabee gently rubbed Vin's arm, saying, "Easy, pard. We're a day closer to gettin' rid of this now."

He wished Vin would open his eyes and tell him that he was feeling better, but Chris knew that wasn't going to happen.

"You're going to be fine, Vin… You have to be… You hear me? I'm not losing you, too…"

At sunup Ezra drew the horses in at a small spring. Chris climbed out and unhitched the team, allowing them to drink their fill.

While Larabee took care of the horses, Ezra unpacked some of the food Mrs. Griffiss had sent along so they could have breakfast. By unspoken agreement, they didn't wake Vin until after they had finished eating. Water seemed to be the only thing the tracker's stomach could tolerate, and they didn't want to make it any harder on the man than it needed to be, and they both knew Vin must be hungry.

When they did finally wake him, Tanner finished off a cup full of the liquid.

"How're you feeling?" Chris asked as he tightened the canteen top and set it aside.

          Vin sighed softly. "'Bout the same as when we started yesterday, I reckon."

          Chris frowned and pressed the back of his hand to Vin's forehead. "Don't think you've got a fever. Doctor's wife said that's a good sign."

          "Should let them horses cool off," Vin said airily. "Y' been pushin' 'em purty hard."

          "And you should get some more sleep," Ezra told him, adding softly to Larabee, "I will keep watch on Mr. Tanner while you tend the horses."

          Chris nodded, climbing out of the wagon bed. He paused for a moment, staring worriedly at the tracker, hoping Vin could hang on for another day.

          "He will," Ezra said quietly.

          Startled, Chris met the man's eyes. He nodded and then turned and headed for the horses. He couldn't be wrong about what he'd just seen in the gambler's eyes. There was no mistaking it. Standish loved Vin… and maybe him as well.

          The thought was more than a little unsettling, and it brought back his musings from the day before.

          Not that he minded Ezra having feelings for Vin, especially not right now. In fact, knowing how the gambler felt made it easier to leave Vin in his care, because he knew Standish would do whatever he could for Vin. But _him?_

          Now that was something else again.

          He'd never taken up with a man, until Vin had come along; never thought to look at another man the way he looked at Vin, either. And he wasn't at all sure he _could_ look at Ezra that way, but the gambler always had been able to get under his skin…

He carried around an uncomfortable kind of respect for Ezra, something he'd never sorted out to his own satisfaction.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Ezra forced him to be better than he might otherwise be, just like Vin did…

          And now, if he could set aside the danger Vin was in, the thought of Vin and Ezra together… Well, it tightened him up in places only Vin had been able to accomplish until now.

But he _couldn't_ set that aside, at least not for long, so he shook off the disconcerting thoughts and concentrated on tending to the horses, leaving the rest for another day.

But he couldn't help thinking that the gambler had neatly gotten out of caring for the animals himself. Smooth, Ezra was just too damn smooth…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Sunday passed slowly for Vin as he was jostled along in the back of the wagon. Without the bedding he rested on, he would have already been black and blue, but even stagecoach springs couldn't help level the ruts and gouges that the miners' carts and settlers' wagons had carved into the road. He knew Chris weighed a choice between caution and speed, and was keeping the bumps to a minimum as he hurried them along toward the surgeon as quickly as he could, but the tracker still felt every one of the bumps and jars.

          And things weren't going very well with his rebelling appendix. By midday Vin knew the cold towels weren't working as well as they had been the day before. He didn't say anything about it, though, since his side still felt better than it had when he'd been riding, and he knew Chris and Ezra were already doing all they possibly could for him. It wouldn't help to get the men fretting about something they couldn't do anything about. And he really didn't want to get Chris in a worry.

          He pulled the blankets up higher and wished he weren't so lightheaded. At least his stomach stayed quiet when he didn't try to put anything into it. The chicken broth at lunchtime had been a disaster, but he could feel the effects of fasting over the last few days – his muscles had gotten weak, quaking with the smallest movements. And there had been a few times he'd thought, maybe, he was delirious, but he'd had fevers before and he knew this was something different, something that drained his strength without giving him a chance to fight back.

In an effort to ignore the increasingly persistent pain, he stared up at the clouds passing by overhead. After a short while he knew that they would be seeing some rain before the night was over. As his mind drifted, images emerged in the white wisps – horses, a wagon, JD's hat… and then some that were more troubling: smoke rising from burned teepees, a man's body lying sprawled on the ground…

A sharp stab of pain jerked him nearly upright on the mattress. He grabbed onto the side of the wagon, the world wobbling crazily in front of his eyes, which he squeezed shut.

"Vin?" Ezra called, jerking from sleep and crawling over to the tracker's side. "Vin, what's wrong?"

The tracker panted, trying to catch his breath as Larabee drew the wagon to a stop upon hearing the gambler's worried question. When he could, Vin allowed Ezra to lower him back onto the mattress.

"You must tell me what just happened," Ezra insisted, the worry in his voice so clear it felt physical to the hurting tracker.

"Pain stabbed me real good," Vin replied, shaking his head when Standish offered him some water.

The gambler quickly changed the cold pack, trying to make Vin as comfortable as possible afterward, while Chris kept glancing back over his shoulder to watch their progress. When it appeared that things were back to what they were calling normal, Larabee turned back to the horses and pushed them to pick up the pace, determined to get Vin to the doctor as quickly as possible.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ *

 

          The weather remained clear for the rest of the afternoon, but then turned unpleasant, a west wind whipping up dust and splattering them with rain twice, once just before sunset and once just after. Then it began to rain steadily, slowing them down.

They had stopped as the first drops began to fall, Chris and Ezra quickly pulling the canvass up and over the metal hoops so Vin would be protected from the weather.

          Vin had tried to move out of the way so the two men could work around him easier, but had immediately collapsed, muscles trembling from the lack of food. Chris decided then and there that he'd have the tracker try some broth again when they stopped for supper, hoping it might build up the man's strength a little.

Eventually, when the mud got so bad the horses began to balk, Larabee stopped for supper, building a small fire in a sheltered rock crevasse, warming some of the chicken broth Mrs. Griffiss had sent along.

          Vin had to admit it smelled wonderful, and he forced himself to work his way through it, slowly, hoping that might convince his stomach to accept it.

"Aw hell–" he gasped a few minutes after he'd finished.

          Ezra immediately grabbed an empty bucket and helped Vin to sit up.

A few moments later, the tracker was thoroughly sick.

          "Vin?" Chris called when he heard the sounds of the retching. He hurried over from where he had been checking on one of the horses.

          "It will be quite all right," Ezra told him. "Apparently Mr. Tanner's condition isn't going to allow him hold down any food."

When the nausea finally passed, Ezra handed the bucket to Chris to empty and then wiped the tracker's face and neck with one of the damp towels.

          "C'n I have some water?" Tanner rasped painfully.

          "I suggest just enough to rinse out your mouth," Standish instructed, letting the tracker spit the liquid into another bucket. Then, following Nathan's instructions, he carefully checked Vin's pulse and temperature. "It would probably be best if we allowed your… belly to settle down before you try drinking any more water."

The gambler's expression was neutral, but Chris was beginning to catch the subtle differences in the man's expression when it came to Vin and he knew something wasn't good. Vin had thrown his arm across his face and was answering the gambler's questions too quietly for him to really hear them, but he could tell by the tone alone that the tracker was both frustrated and in pain.

          When Ezra was done, Vin turned onto his side and pulled the blankets up around his ears, quickly dropping off into an exhausted sleep.

          "How's he doing?" Chris asked when Ezra settled back against the side of the wagon with a long sigh.

          "Not as well as I had hoped," Standish admitted, scrubbing his hands over his face. "The cold packs may have slowed the infection, but, as Nathan explained, his appendix is still infected and it's getting worse, slower than before, perhaps, but it's still getting worse and we can't do a thing to stop it."

"Think we'll get him to the doctor in time?" Larabee asked, a sudden coldness settled in his heart. And, knowing that Vin might be listening to them, he met Ezra's eyes and added silently, "The truth."

          Standish shrugged helplessly. "I simply do not know," he replied, then added, "However, I do know that Mr. Tanner is tenacious, and I know he will not give up without one hell of a fight." Ezra dipped his head and concluded, "And I do not believe he would ever hurt you like that."

          "Don't see that he has much to say about the matter," Chris replied, more frightened than he could remember being in a very long time.

          "Be that as it may, I am certain he will fight with every weapon at his disposal to survive this – for your sake."

          Chris met the man's eyes, holding them for a long moment. The emotions playing out in the gambler's green eyes eluded him – or maybe he just wasn't ready to see them for what they were. He nodded, though, because it was true. Vin would do everything in his power to keep from hurting him, because he loved him. "You just keep helpin' him," Chris said. "I'll get him there in time… one way or another."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Monday morning, dawn**

 

          Chris drove the horses straight through the night again, stopping only when he absolutely had to. Shortly before dawn they reached a spot Mrs. Griffiss had told them to watch for. The trail dipped down to a stream, the land spreading out into a sloping clearing that was partially sheltered by the mountain. They were all travel-weary, and the horses were steaming from their efforts on the muddy road.

Larabee reined in and then unhitched the animals, giving them a hasty rubdown before leaving them tethered near the stream. The drizzle had finally stopped a couple of hours earlier, but his breath made a frosty cloud as he climbed back up to the road with a bucket of fresh, cold water. He set that next to the wagon for Ezra, then collected a few pieces of deadwood, knowing that they would be stopped long enough for him to build a fire and brew some much-needed coffee. Vin might not be able to enjoy it, but he and Ezra would need it before the day was over.

          They had made good time once the rain had ended and he guessed that they should reach Sheltonville sometime Tuesday morning, even if they rested the horses for an hour or so now, which the animals needed. The team of four had done a remarkable job so far, and he didn't want to take any chances with them.

          When he got back to the wagon with the wood, no one was in sight, but then Ezra called, "Chris, please, get in the wagon; it's cold out there."

          The wagon bed was about six foot square and Vin was lying cattycorner across the center. Ezra had burrowed down into the straw on one side of the tracker, and Chris did the same on the other.

          "Hell," Tanner said breathily, "a pipe an' a few feathers an' we'd look like a bunch 'a Indians."

          The two men chuckled softly. "Long as we don't have to get naked," Chris said, remembering what JD had told them about the sweat lodge he'd seen in Ko-Je's village.

          Vin chuckled softly, pressing his hand to his side. "Hell, Cowboy, 'm damn near nekked now."

          "Don't remind me," Larabee grumbled quietly, hoping Ezra wouldn't be able to hear him. He warmed himself for a time, then said, "I'm going to go fix some coffee."

          Ezra nodded. "Vin has been keeping water down for a few hours now, maybe he should try some tea?" He looked at Vin. "Would you be willing to give it a try? Nathan said it will help ease the pain."

          Tanner made a face, but he didn't say no. He knew all too well the value of Nathan's medicinal brews, even if they did taste like boiled skunk most of the time.

          Chris climbed out and got to work on the coffee and tea.

          In the wagon, Vin shivered slightly and Ezra moved closer. "I know it might be uncomfortable, but shared warmth might chase the chill away…"

          Vin nodded, waiting until the man was pressed up along his left side, then said, "Y' been waitin' for an excuse t' get cozy since y' caught me 'n' Chris t'gether in his barn…"

          Standish's eyes flew open wide and he stammered, "I— I— I don't know what you're referring to."

          Vin grinned. "Huh, would 'a thought that might make a bigger impression on ya, givin' how long y' stood there…"

          Standish's face turned nearly purple. "I— I— I never meant to—"

          "Damn, Ezra, 'm just funnin' with ya," Vin said weakly.

          Ezra blinked, staring at the tracker for a moment. There was no anger or revulsion in the man's eyes, just… good-natured affection. "I see," he replied smoothly. "But I want you to know that I did not mean to—"

          "I know y' didn't," Vin interrupted. "Looked like y' wanted t' jump right in, though…"

          Ezra looked away, swallowing hard, cheeks once more burning hotly.

          "If I don't make it—"

          "You will," Ezra said, looking back sharply, his tone one that brooked no alternative.

          "If I don't," Vin repeated, "Chris is… well, he's gonna need somebody t'… watch his back."

          "I don't think I would be the one he'd choose for such a—"

          "'M just sayin'—" Vin began, but his words were cut off by a sharp stab of pain in his side.

          "We'll talk about this more later," Ezra told him. "Right now it's obvious that you need rest."

          "Been restin'," Tanner argued petulantly.

          The gambler fought to keep from smiling. The comment and the expression coming from the tracker made Vin look all of five or six years old. "Yes, well, you need more rest."

          Vin pouted.

          Ezra pushed himself up on his elbow and reached out to cup the man's face. "I promise, we _will_ talk about this, but right now you need to rest, build up a little strength. He needs you, Vin, not me."

          Tanner pondered on the man's words for a moment, then he nodded. He closed his eyes, trying to relax into the warmth Ezra provided. He nodded slightly when he heard the gambler add in a whisper, "I need you as well…"

          Vin smiled to himself as he drifted closer to sleep. He'd never thought he'd find love, real love, but he had. He loved Chris, and Chris, he knew, loved him. And now it seemed that he might have found it again… The possibility of it nearly stole his breath away.

          The odd thing of it was, it didn't seem to change how he felt about Chris in the slightest. He wasn't sure how that could be. Seemed to him that a man had an allotment of love to spend in his life, and he'd thought he'd spent all he had on Chris… But maybe there was more, or maybe God or the Spirits gave a man more when he needed it… It was a puzzle he'd have to ponder on… later.

          He felt Ezra beginning to gently rub his arm and chest. The ministrations felt good, and they distracted him from the pain his belly. His muscles relaxed, and he sighed softly, slipping back into a restoring, if not healing, sleep.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Monday, nearing noon**

 

          Vin spent the morning half-dozing as he rocked with the motion of the wagon. Sometimes the pitching became a little more than his stomach could handle and when it was, either Ezra or Chris would be there, helping him to sit up, holding the bucket for him, wiping his face afterward, and giving him water to rinse out his mouth. The tracker hated losing control like that, but he hurt too much to fight them.

          Then, when the bout passed, he would lie back on the feather mattress, his mind foggier than it had been before.

The only thing he was clearly aware of anymore was the pain in his side – the pain that throbbed in time with his heartbeat, sometimes knotting up for minutes at a time. He couldn't block the pain out any longer, and sleep was his only escape, but that was getting harder and harder to come by, and when he did manage it, he found that his dreams had begun to turn on him…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          He was running through open prairie land, chased by a pack of monsters. At first he'd thought they were wolves, but they didn't look like wolves – except for their long, sharp teeth. It was as if God had taken wolves and mountain cats and desert lizards and mixed up all their parts somehow.

The creatures were fast, though, snapping at his heels as he raced across the flat landscape, the sun beating down on him, the stifling heat making it hard for him to breathe. Sweat ran into his eyes, making them sting and almost blinding him.

          Then the creatures broke out of the pack and spread out around him, ringing him. He staggered to a stop, gasping for breath. He drew his knife and swung around, again and again, trying to keep an eye on all of the beasts at the same time. But the creatures warped and twisted in front of his eyes as they darted in and out, trying to get past his defenses.

          He tried rubbing one eye, then the other, to clear them, but that didn't help. The beasts still writhed and contorted like they were made from melting wax.

          He looked up at the sun. The fiery orange-yellow ball was far too close to the earth. It almost filled the sky, raining heat and fire from the sky in terrible waves.

          Looking back at the monsters he saw that they _were_ melting, writhing and screaming as they died horrible deaths.

Tanner looked down at his hands, watching as his skin began to melt off his bones. "No!" he cried. "No!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Open your eyes."

Someone was talking to him.

"Vin, open your eyes."

          That sounded so easy, but it proved to be much harder than Tanner had expected. However, he finally managed it and found himself looking up at a very worried Chris Larabee.

          "Easy, Vin… Easy, pard. How do you feel?" Chris asked him as he used a damp cloth to gently wipe his face and neck.

          Vin wasn't sure how to answer that. He wasn't sure about anything anymore.

          "You were making a lot of noise," Chris said and the tracker noted that Ezra was driving the wagon.

          Vin concentrated, trying to clear his head. "What was I sayin'?"

          "Nothing that made any sense," Chris replied. "Think you were talking Indian of some kind. You were thrashing around quite a bit, though," he added. "You knocked off the cold pack. I need to put it back on."

          "D' ya have to?" Vin asked, his tone almost pleading. "I's cold already. Ain't that enough?"

          "Unfortunately, that is not the same thing," the gambler called from the wagon seat.

"I know this ain't easy on you, but it's the only way we can keep that infection from gettin' too bad," Chris told him.

          Vin nodded. He didn't feel hot any more. He was cold now, really cold, and that was making his side scream with pain. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the movement only forced him to grab for the bucket.

A few minutes later, he sagged back onto the mattress, completely worn out. "Gettin' damn tired 'a this," he rasp out.

          "Don't blame you," Chris said, holding a cup of water to his lips. "Just take enough to rinse out your mouth."

          "Sorry t' be such a bother," Vin said after he spat the water into the bucket. He squeezed his eyes shut as another cramp grabbed him, squeezing his belly in a fist of pure torment. It tore through his side, stabbing along his nerves and making his whole body shriek. He heard someone making an awful whimpering noise that reflected _exactly_ what he was feeling, then realized with horror that _he_ was making the sound himself.

          When the pain finally ebbed, he went limp. It didn't feel like there was much left of him; like the pain was slowly eating him alive from the inside out, leaving a hollow, empty shell behind that would collapse in on itself at any moment.

He looked up at Chris through a glaze of tears. "There a point t' all this?" he asked the gunman. "Y' think 'm goin' t' live through it, Chris?"

          "Yes, I do," Larabee said as he wiped Tanner's face again. When he was done, he caught hold of the tracker's hand and squeezed it gently. "We're making good time. We'll be there tomorrow morning, I promise. I know it's bad, but you have to hold on a little longer."

          Another wave of pain drowned out the gunslinger's next words. Vin curled up, knowing that it wouldn't really help. The fearful prospect of death loomed over him, and he knew with perfect certainty that he might die. It was an oddly comforting thought, all in all. Dying would make the pain go away, and he wasn't sure that might not be a price worth paying for some relief. At least he knew he wouldn't die alone.

          Then he felt the hands that were touching him, trying to pull him over onto his back, the same hands that had made love to his body, but Vin shoved them away. It was taking all his concentration just to stay on top of the pain – more strength than he actually had left. He couldn't let anything else distract him or he'd slip into the agony, and he might never find his way out again.

He knew Chris was trying to say something to him but, just now, it really didn't matter what it was. He just hoped the man understood how much he cared about him…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Monday afternoon**

 

          Late in the day Larabee heard a commotion in the wagon bed. He was already pulling the team to a halt before he heard Ezra calling for his help.

He tied the horses to a tree growing alongside the trail, then climbed into the back of the wagon, his heart racing. The sight that greeted him chilled him to the bone.

Vin had thrown off his blankets and was weakly trying to escape Ezra's touch. The tracker was lying like someone had just kicked him hard in the stomach, and he was gasping for breath, tears falling down his face.

"What's going on?" Chris demanded worriedly.

          Ezra looked up, two days of travel and fretting beginning to show in his harried expression. "He's in a great deal of pain, and isn't thinking too clearly. I need to get him turned over so I can replace the cold pack back on his—"

          "Vin, settle down," Larabee snapped, moving closer to the tracker.

          Whether it was the gunslinger's tone of voice, or the fact that it was Larabee who was talking to him, Ezra wasn't sure, but it worked. Vin stopped thrashing around and lay still, panting like he'd run there all the way from Four Corners. Finally, Vin glanced dazedly around. "Chris?"

          The tracker looked awful, but Chris forced an encouraging smile onto his face as he said, "Right here, Vin." He squatted down next to the man and cupped the man's face. "I want you to listen to me. Ezra's just trying to help you, understand? I want you to settle down and let him help you. He needs to keep those cold towels on your belly until we get to the doctor."

          Vin hesitated a moment, like he didn't really understand what Larabee was saying, but then he nodded and allowed Ezra to ease him back over onto the bedding and cover him up, but there wasn't a speck of hope or fight left in his eyes.

          "Try to get a little sleep," Chris told him, pushing Vin's sodden hair off his forehead. "We're almost there. I swear."

          "Sleep," Tanner agreed airily, his head nodding slightly.

          It was all too clear to both men that Tanner was at the end of his rope… and it was quickly fraying.

Ezra checked Vin's forehead and cheek with the back of his hand. "Better?" he asked the tracker, hoping that the cold pack might be helping some.

          "Some," Vin said, finally able to catch his breath.

          "I'll change this one soon, then you can try to sleep some more," Ezra told him. "With luck, I won't have to bother you again for a while."

          A few minutes later the two men had Vin bundled up with a new cold pack in place and the tracker drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

          "I think you should stay with him now," Ezra said. "He responds better to you."

          Larabee nodded, noting the hurt in Ezra's eyes. It wasn't hard for him to guess that nobody had ever trusted the gambler the way Vin did Chris. And given Ezra's feeling for Vin… "He don't mean nothin' by it," he said.

"I know. He's tired and hurting and… He'll rest better if you're with him," Ezra concluded, then climbed up to drive the team, leaving Chris with Vin.

The blond lay down beside Vin, who seemed to relax more when the gunslinger's hand was resting on his shoulder.

          Chris watched the man who had gone from friend to lover, knowing that the rest wasn't taking Vin's pain away any longer.

          "You think maybe we should give him some of that laudanum?" Chris asked the gambler.

          "If he has another bout like that last one, we might have to," Ezra replied, glancing back over his shoulder at the man. "Mrs. Griffiss said his reactions would let us know what's going on inside. She said to watch if the pain jumps sharply and doesn't subside, or if his fever shoots up… well, then we're in trouble. But if he's drugged, those reactions will be… muted, or perhaps absent altogether."

          "He does feel a little warmer," Chris said, pressing his hand to the tracker's cheek, his thumb rubbing lightly over Vin's dry lips. _Be all right, Vin, please… I need you to be okay…_

          "Yes, I noticed that as well," Ezra admitted.

          Chris touched Vin's forehead again and sighed. Gunshot wounds he understood, or bellyaches from bad food, but this was beyond him. All he could see was that Tanner was hurting, his color was off, and he looked like he was dying. "There some other reason we can't give him the laudanum?" he asked the gambler, a little surprised to realize that he'd been able to read something in the man's expression that told him there was.

          Ezra sighed softly, then said, "As soon as we reach Dr. Griffiss, he will conduct the surgery. He will, his wife said, have to give Vin chloroform. Mrs. Griffiss said it would be best if Vin did not have anything that might make it harder for him to wake him up when the surgery is over. She also said that once we begin giving the laudanum to him, we'll have to keep giving it to him until we get there."

          Chris nodded his understanding; three good reasons not to do it. He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed heavily. Damn but he was tired – tired and hungry and sore. He couldn't imagine the kind of agony Vin must be enduring; he just knew he wanted it to stop.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Monday night**

 

          An hour passed, then another, the sun setting behind the peaks. Twilight didn't last long in the mountains, though, and before long it was fully dark. Ezra drew the team to a halt.

          Chris heard Vin start awake, then mumble, "Chris? Ah hell, now I can't see…"

          "Easy, pard," Larabee soothed. "It's dark, and the blanket's over your face." He flipped up the edge of the cover back and grinned down at the man. "Better?"

          Vin ignored the question and rolled carefully onto his back. "We there?" he asked, his voice sounding thin and tight, barely under control.

          "We'll be there in the morning if we can keep up this pace. You hold on that long?"

          "Reckon so." It was a whisper, and nowhere near as confident as Larabee had been hoping it would be.

          Chris felt for a temperature, fear spiking in his gut. There was heat in Tanner's skin that hadn't been there before. But then he'd been buried under the blanket…

          "I'm going to let the horses rest for a bit," Ezra called back. "Mr. Tanner awake?"

          "Yeah," Larabee replied.

          "Why don't you see if he can keep some water down?"

          Chris found the canteen, then slid his arm behind Vin and helped him to sit up. "Think you can drink some water?"

          Vin nodded. He was thirsty, but then it seemed like he'd been hungry and thirsty for a long, long time now. _How long?_ he wondered, but he didn't know for sure. He'd lost track of time, the hours blending into one long nightmare of pain.

          "You feel a little warm," Chris commented.

          "Here, let me check," the gambler said as he climbed into the wagon. He waited for Tanner to finish his water. "He does seem a bit warmer." Over Vin's head he met Chris' gaze, his expression grave. "The rain is making the road worse, too."

          "Get us moving again," Chris told him and Ezra nodded and climbed back onto the seat and got the horses moving as best they could on the muddy road.

          Vin shivered.

          "You want some more water?"

          The tracker shook his head, another shiver running through him, just like they had been for about an hour now. He hunched in on himself with a stifled cry.

Chris grabbed him and held on. "Easy, Vin, easy. Try to relax, okay? Take a deep breath."

          Vin bobbed his head and managed a couple of shaky breaths, but then he doubled over again, clutching desperately at Larabee's coat. He seemed to be fighting another spasm, but at least he wasn't getting sick to his stomach again. Chris held on, knowing his presence made it a little easier for the tracker to ride the pain out.

          Vin began to cry, softly at first, his sobs muffled against the collar of Larabee's black duster. But then it became all too clear what was happening.

Chris patted Vin's back awkwardly, wishing there was something more he could do to help the man. He couldn't recall a single time when he'd seen Vin cry – and certainly never from pain. So, either he was too worn out to fight it any longer, or he'd finally been pushed beyond his endurance… Maybe both.

          Chris gently rocked Vin back and forth like he would have with Adam, wondering how long it would take until the cramp eased. He was afraid to wonder what might happen if it didn't. Either way, there didn't seem to be a damn thing he could do. He felt helpless, and he hated the feeling. He was just glad that he was sitting in such a way that he blocked the sight from Ezra. It was bad enough that Vin was hurting like this, he didn't need the extra wound to his pride that would come from letting someone else see him break down like this.

          Besides, Ezra didn't need to know how badly Vin was hurting either.

          After a few minutes Vin seemed to quiet, his breathing easing a bit. Chris gave the man a little longer to pull himself together, then eased him back down onto the feather mattress. He reached over and pulled a towel out of a bucket of water and wrung it out as best he could.

          "Chris…" Vin called softly, his usually raspy voice hardly more than a raw whisper now, "…that happens ag'in… y' jist shoot me."

          Larabee sat, dumbly wondering why his lungs wouldn't work well enough to say "no." It felt like whatever was hurting Vin had given him a good kick to his own stomach. Then his breath broke loose in something that might have been a laugh if he'd had the energy left for it. He held up his hands. "Sorry, pard, but that just ain't gonna happen."

          Vin closed his eyes again, retreating into whatever space he had found to escape or fight the pain from.

          "Ezra," Chris called, "pull 'em up." He climbed out onto the wagon seat, saying, "You need to give him something for the pain – now."

          The gambler nodded with a sigh. He'd been afraid this time would come. Crawling over the seat to take the gunslinger's place at Vin's side, he said a short, silent prayer. "Vin, I'm going to give you something to take the edge off that pain." He wiped the tracker's face with a damp cloth, then took a little laudanum and mixed it with some water and helped Vin take it. A few minutes later he asked, "Feeling any better?"

          Vin nodded. "Still hurts," he whispered, "but… don't seem so important now." He felt the wagon lurch and grunted, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to shut out the swarm of complaints his body kept throwing at him. The painkiller was helping, in its way, but it was also making it harder for him to concentrate and, for some reason he couldn't fathom, he felt much colder now than he had before. He huddled down under the blankets while Ezra prepared another cold pack and then replaced the one already on his side.

"Ez…"

"Right here, Vin," the gambler replied.

"Think maybe y' could rub my chest again?"

"I think that could be arranged," Standish replied, adding, "for a small fee, of course."

Vin managed a thin smile. "What would that be?" he asked.

Ezra seemed to think for a moment, then said, "I think an early morning patrol should cover it…"

"Just one?"

"You've caught me in a magnanimous mood."

"A what?"

"I'm feeling well disposed to you at the moment," Ezra clarified.

"Feelin' sorry fer me is more like," Vin countered. "Tell me the truth," he whispered, forcing his eyes open, his drug-glazed gaze meeting the gambler's. "This gonna kill me?"

          Ezra continued to lightly rub Vin's chest as he said, "Your chances are still good, Vin. We just have to get you into town as quickly as we can so the good doctor can do whatever it is that must be done."

          "'M sore all over."

          "With what you've been doing to your gut muscles, I'm hardly surprised." He lightly rubbed the tracker's arm. "And I distinctly remember Mr. Jackson telling me that infections makes a man ache terribly."

          Vin nodded, and Ezra began speaking again, but the tracker no longer heard the words. A grey, skeletal hand reached out through the fog of the painkiller and seized him around the middle. Pain like nothing that had come before lanced through the tracker, cutting off sight, breath and thought.

And he had nothing left to fight back with.

          Something was pulling at his attention… insistent… persistent… demanding…

It was a voice.

A voice was trying to speak to him… trying to reach him in the tormented place he'd fallen into. Who?

          He tried to focus, to listen, but it was nearly impossible as he fell continuously through the searing hell. He reached for the voice, desperate to latch onto it, to stop his descent into pure torment.

The voice was familiar… comforting… and he knew he should recognize it.

          He reached out to it, threw himself on the mercies it promised him.

          "Vin, listen to me, you have to breathe. Breathe, damn it, Tanner."

          Breathe?

But then Vin noticed that he _wasn't_ breathing. He needed to breathe. If he stopped, he'd die.

But then the pain would stop.

"Breathe, damn you!"

He tried to draw a breath, but he couldn't. He panicked slightly, still uncertain if he should fight or allow the beckoning darkness to take him, remove him from an existence he associated only with pain. But the voice was insistent.

"Goddamn you, Tanner, fight! Breathe, damn it! Breathe!"

He couldn't stay the voice. He reached for it, fought for the air he needed to sustain his torture. And the pain blessedly eased slightly as Vin concentrated on pulling air into his lungs. A moment later he realized that he was holding Chris' hand so tightly his fingers were beginning to cramp.

As soon as he found the energy to move, Vin slowly released his death grip. "Sorry," he managed, slowly getting his breath back. "Didn't mean t'… hurt ya…"

          "I'm fine, Vin. Don't worry about me," Chris said, running his fingers through Tanner's sodden hair.

"Vin, tell me what just happened," Ezra asked, frowning at the bruise-like pain circles under the tracker's eyes.

          "Guess that… medicine's… wearin' off," he said, the cold, sickly ache beginning to stir through his guts again.

          "Vin, listen to me," Ezra said. "This is very important. How do you feel compared to a little while ago?"

          "Huh?" Time had gotten fuzzy a while back, and he had no idea what Ezra meant. Right now all he wanted was for Chris to keep doing what he was doing. It felt good.

          "Vin, listen to me," the gambler snapped. "How do you feel now, compared to when the attack started?"

          It took several moments, but then the words started to make some sense. "'S better… was worse b'fore."

          "How does this feel?" Ezra asked, applying a light pressure and then tapping Vin's abdomen, hoping he was doing correctly, the way Mrs. Griffiss had showed him.

          "Hurts," Vin moaned and flinched away.

"Easy," Chris soothed, his fingers still working their magic.

Vin gritted his teeth and waited for the examination to end, trying to concentrate on what felt good.

          Ezra finished, changed the towel, and then pulled the blankets up again. "I gave you a light dose of the laudanum before, Vin. The next few hours might be easier if you take a little bit more now."

          Vin thought for a moment. If he took the painkiller he knew he'd just drift off, but he wasn't sure to where. If he fell back into the hell he'd just escaped, he was afraid he'd never find his way out again. Besides, that would mean abandoning the small measure of pleasure Chris was providing and he desperately didn't want to lose that. He shook his head.

          "All right," Ezra said, glad of the decision, even if it did mean that Vin might suffer more. He checked the tracker's temperature again.

Vin could hear Ezra talking to Chris and wondered what they were saying. Not that it really mattered. He knew he was getting worse, but there was nothing he could do now except try and hang on and, failing that, say good-bye before the darkness took him beyond his friends' reach.

It was enough that Chris' hands brought him a reminder of something that wasn't pain. He surrendered to that touch, to the man who was responsible for it, and to the love they shared. He could no longer care for himself, so he gave himself over to the men who could and would take care of him, two of them here with him in the wagon, and four others riding to his side even now. And in that moment of surrender, he felt a peace like none he'd ever known before.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ezra looked up, meeting Larabee's eyes and saying, "I'll drive the rest of the way. He needs you now."

          "Ezra?"

          The gambler shook his head. "I just don't know, Chris. His temperature's up and the pain's returning, but he refused the laudanum."

          Fear made the gunslinger's heart beat fast. "What does that mean?"

          "It means we need to get there quickly as we can," was all the man said, climbing up onto the seat and taking up the reins.

          Larabee asked, "He gonna make it that far?"

          "He will, Chris," was all Ezra was willing to offer.

          Chris sighed softly and settled more comfortably next to the tracker, his fingers still stroking through the man's hair. "It won't be long now," he said softly, although he no longer knew if it was death or surgery that was going to save Vin.

          The tracker only nodded weakly as he lay with his eyes closed, looking more tired than Chris thought a living man ever could. Then Vin's expression contorted into a mask of pure agony and he curled up in the blankets with a strangled moan.

Chris moved to help, but the tracker pushed him away.

          "Vin, calm down," Larabee pleaded, afraid that the violent cramps assailing the man might rupture his appendix all by themselves.

But Vin didn't calm down, fighting like a sick bobcat whenever Chris tried to touch him. "Vin, damn it, it's me. It's Chris," he told the thrashing man. "I'm not letting you go, you hear me? I'm not letting you go."

          That seemed to break through the pain and Vin stopped fighting when Larabee touched his shoulder this time.

Weak with relief, Chris pulled Vin back onto the feather mattress. His next task was to out a cold towel back in place. He couldn't tell if it was helping any more, but at least he was doing something.

"Just take it easy, Vin," he said quietly as he worked. "We'll be there soon. And I'll be right here until we are. You hear me? I'll be right here, holdin' on to you. I'm not letting you go, Vin. I can't… I just can't."

          Vin kept trying to curl up so Chris scooted around behind him and helped him to sit up. That stopped the thrashing, but it didn't seem to ease the pain at all, and although Vin wasn't making much noise, fierce shudders passed though his body every few seconds.

Vin reached up weakly, clinging to Larabee's arm like it was a lifeline.

          Terror trickled down the back of Larabee's neck. How much longer before they reached Sheltonville? He could feel that the tracker's fever had gone up and the cramps didn't seem to be stopping… Was it too late already? Nathan hadn't held out much hope for Vin if his appendix burst before they got him to the doctor…

          "Easy, Vin… relax…" A memory flashed through Larabee's mind. He holding a young soldier, in the middle of the war, while he died a terrible death, gut-shot. Chris let his head fall back against the side of the wagon. Not again. Not Vin. _Please, God_ , he prayed silently, _please, not like that. Not Vin_ …

          Chris tightened his hold on Tanner, trying to push the despair away. It would be so pointless for things to end like this, especially after all the scrapes they had been through. And before Vin had had an opportunity to clear his name. It just wasn't fair.

          "Chris?" The whisper was dry and a little squeaky.

          Larabee hastily pulled himself together. "I'm right here, pard." Vin was still shivering, but his breathing seemed to be returning to something closer to normal. "You need some of that laudanum?"

          "No… 'm okay."

 _Yeah, sure you are_ , Chris thought, scared. Vin sounded so worn out, so hopeless.

Then, as if he'd read Larabee's thoughts, the tracker whispered, "Don't mean t' scare ya."

          "I'm just worried, that's all." Chris eased the tracker down and spread another blanket over Vin. "You're shaking. Are you cold?"

          "Not much… gettin' better… got t'… tell ya… if 'm gonna' die… rather do it… here… with y' with me." He ran out of energy, but Chris could tell he wasn't finished. And, he wasn't at all sure he wanted to hear the rest.

          Finally, Vin caught his breath again. "Ain't had no family… not since I's a little feller… Means more t' me… 'n y' know, Chris… jist wanted t' say m' thanks…"

          "I understand," Chris said quietly, his eyes stinging. And he did, too, perhaps better than the tracker knew. He'd been nothing more than a shell when he'd met Vin – dead on the inside. But then he saw those blue eyes, saw the depths of the soul behind them, and knew he couldn't let this man face death without him at his side.

And they'd walked though life side by side ever since that moment. He couldn't lose Vin, not now. Not and survive. He'd return to what he'd been before he'd met Tanner. He'd die all over again.

"You're going to survive this, Vin. You have to."

"Love y'… y' know…"

"Yeah, I know," Chris managed.

          Now that he'd said his piece, all the strength Vin had left seemed to drain out of him. His eyes slid shut and he slipped into a light, restless doze, cradled in the arms of the man he called friend, brother, and so much more.

Chris knew Vin had been running on pure grit ever since they'd killed the renegades, maybe even before that. Now, if he could rest, he could build a little strength back before the surgery.

And he _would_ live to have the surgery.

          Chris leaned back against the side of the wagon and closed his own eyes, praying to whatever god chose to listen that Vin be spared.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Tuesday morning, dawn**

 

          "Chris."

          Larabee's eyes blinked open. He was unsure how long he'd been asleep, and he glanced over at Vin, but the tracker was still out. He checked the man's fever, but it didn't feel any worse than it had earlier… when he'd said good-bye.

          "Chris."

          He grunted and climbed over so he could see out the front of the wagon, but there was still nothing but darkness. "Something wrong?" he asked Ezra, noticing the first faint trails of grey that had started to streak the sky.

          "No. I just wanted to let you know that the town should be just ahead. We should arrive at sun-up. How is he doing?"

          "Been sleepin'."

          "Best thing for him," Ezra said, his own voice stained with exhaustion, and Larabee suddenly felt guilty. He'd forced the gambler to drive the wagon half the night while he'd slept. "Want me to take over?" he asked.

          "No need," Ezra said. "I can see lights up ahead."

A half-hour later they entered Sheltonville as the sun rose. They asked the first man they passed where Dr. Griffiss' office could be found and the old timer pointed to a building halfway down the street. They moved on, pulling up outside the building.

A moment after they did the door opened and two young men hurried out with a stretcher. They were followed by an older, white-haired man, who called, "Don't jostle him too much!" to the stretcher-bearers.

          Chris waited as the two men pulled the tailgate down then, with his and Ezra's help, they moved Vin from the feather mattress onto the stretcher.

The doctor called, "The table in the room to your right!" as the boys entered the house with Vin.

          Inside the room, the two young men held the stretcher steady while Ezra and Chris transferred Vin onto the table. Dr. Griffiss dismissed the boys and then stalked across the room to get his medical equipment ready.

"Get him scrubbed," the physician told a young woman who entered the room. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Larabee, Mr. Standish."

"Likewise," Chris responded.

"Indeed," Ezra added.

          Larabee and Ezra removed Vin's long johns while the woman fetched a pan of soapy water from the woodstove in the corner of the room. Once the tracker was naked, she scrubbed Tanner's abdomen twice with the sudsy water. By then the doctor had joined her and Griffiss rinsed the tracker's skin with alcohol and then painted him with iodine.

          "Thought this was… gonna be… 'n operation," Vin slurred as he watched the doctor rubbing the iodine over his belly, "not a war dance."

          Larabee couldn't help but grin, but he knew Tanner's humor was a fragile thing, as sharp and as brittle as an ice crystal. The surgery was suddenly real – for all of them – something that might or might not work. The details of preparing Vin for it had thoroughly spooked Larabee, and the tracker as well, it seemed.

          "We'll need the chloroform," Dr. Griffiss told the woman and she nodded.

          She returned quickly with a small wire basket and a bottle. "You ready, Uncle?" she asked him, knowing every moment that they waited might be a death sentence for the young man on the table.

          "Just about, Grace…" Griffiss moved back to the stove, holding a sieve in a pot of boiling water. "I want to give these instruments a little longer to boil. You go ahead."

          She nodded and held up the bottle and the basket so Tanner could see them. "I'm gonna put some of this chloroform on this cotton and hold it over your nose and mouth. I want you to breathe normally, all right? You'll be asleep before you know it, and when you wake up, it'll all be over."

          _One way or another_ , the tracker thought, watching the basket like a bird hypnotized by a snake.

"Sir?" she asked when she got no response from the tracker. "I assure you, I've helped my uncle do this on a number of occasions."

Vin met her eyes and he nodded, then pulled his gaze away and stared at Larabee. "Chris," he said softly, everything he was feeling escaping in his tone and expression.

Chris stepped up to the side of the table and took the tracker's hand in his, saying, "I'll be right here, pard."

          Vin nodded. "Thanks, Cowboy… fer ever'thing."

          Chris nodded, although he felt more like crying and wasn't at all sure why.

          Tanner's gaze slipped to Ezra and he smiled thinly. "Appreciate it if y' make sure the doc don't take anything more 'n need…"

          The gambler managed a smile at that. "I will remain most vigilant," Ezra told him.

          "C'n y' stay, too?"

          "Of course," Ezra replied, surprised by the request, but it made his heart swell with hope.

          Vin took a deep breath, his grip on Larabee's hand tightening slightly. He'd never wanted to die alone, and he knew now that he wouldn't. Chris would be here with him. Ezra, too. He looked back at the young woman and nodded that he was ready.

          Grace poured out a small amount of the liquid and placed the basket lightly over Vin's nose and mouth, the chloroform taking just seconds to do its work.

Tanner's eyes lost their focus, then slid shut. A moment later his hand went slack in Larabee's grasp. Chris held it a moment longer, then tucked it back under the sheet that the doctor had used to cover the tracker.

          "I'll take good care of him," Dr. Griffiss said, coming over. "Uh-oh."

          "What's wrong?" Grace asked him.

          "He's starting to come around already." The doctor peeled up one of Vin's eyelids. "That's the trouble with chloroform – some people go out for hours, some wake up right away. Too damn unpredictable." He put a few more drops in the inhaler and placed it over Tanner's face again. He looked up at Larabee, then at Ezra. "Either of you have any trouble with the sight of blood?"

          Chris shook his head.

          "Not any longer," Ezra replied.

          "Wash your hands then," Griffiss told them. "And don't touch anything unless I tell you to. If anything falls on the floor, leave it there. All I want you two to do is watch your friend's breathing and give him another sniff of the chloroform if I think he needs it. I'm going to need Grace to assist me – at least until we see what's going on in there. But I don't want him waking up too soon if we run into trouble. Mind that you don't give him more than a sniff, though, or he might not wake up at all."

          Chris nodded his understanding, but he could feel his palms beginning to get damp as his anxiety climbed. What if he accidentally killed his best friend?

          "Oh, and you might not want to watch," Griffiss added. "I passed out cold the first time I saw an operation."

          "Hell, Doc, I've dug bullets out of him before," Chris said, a little offended. "And had 'em dug out of me, too," he added.

          The older man just nodded. "Just be sure neither of you breathe too much of that chloroform yourselves. It can knock you out, too; tricky stuff." Then he looked at Grace and asked, "Ready?"

          "Yes, Uncle," she replied.

          "Very good, then, hand me that scalpel and let's save this boy's life, shall we?"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The surgery went much faster than either of the peacekeepers had guessed it would – twenty minutes at the most, Ezra figured. Dr. Griffiss' movements were swift and efficient, but neither man had been unable to watch the whole operation. Somewhere about the second layer of muscle it suddenly struck both of them that this was _Vin_ being carved up like a side of beef, and that observation almost made stomachs turn over.

Or maybe it was the heavy, sweetish reek of the chloroform.

          In either case, Chris had taken a half-step back, drew in a deep breath, and forced his attention onto watching for any signs that Tanner might be waking. He held the wire cage and Ezra the bottle of chloroform.

Chris thought it was nothing less than miraculous that the tracker just lay there while the physician cut into him like that. He was obvious that Vin couldn't feel anything that was happening to him, but how was that possible?

Still, Chris knew it was true. Vin's eyes remained closed, his expression peaceful, and his breathing steady.

          Before he knew it, Grace was standing beside him, peeking under Vin's eyelids and saying, "I think he's coming out of it now."

          "Fine, fine," Dr. Griffiss said. "Another stitch here and I'll be finished as well…" He tied off a knot with the heavy black thread and then sighed softly with satisfaction. The job was done. "We got it in time," he added, looking up at the two peacekeepers. "But I must say your friend had a damn stubborn appendix."

          Chris blinked, then smiled. "Just like everything else about him," he replied, then asked, "It's over? All of it?"

          "Yes, it's over," Dr. Griffiss assured him. "And he appears to be doing fine. He'll be awake in a little while now, although he most likely won't be coherent. We'll keep a close eye on him, in case of infection, but, barring that, he should make a full recovery."

          Chris felt his shoulders sag with relief and suddenly he felt so tired he wasn't sure he could hold himself on his feet. All he wanted to do was curl up and sleep for a week.

Ezra saw the exhaustion on Chris' face and knew he must look the same. He asked the doctor, "Is there someplace we can wash up and get some sleep?"

"Yes, of course," the older man said. "I'm sure you're both exhausted after that trip. Come along and I'll show you—"

"No," Chris said. "I promised him I'd be here."

"He won't remember if you are or aren't when he comes around this time," Dr. Griffiss promised, but Larabee still refused to leave.

Grace found two chairs and set one on either side of the table and the two peacekeepers sat down, waiting for Vin to come around. And he did, a few minutes later, blue eyes still glazed from the chloroform, but he called, "C'ris," his voice thick and slurred.

"Right here, pard," Larabee said, taking the tracker's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Ez?"" Vin called next.

"I'm here," was the gambler's reply as he took Vin's other hand and tenderly squeeze it.

"You're going to be just fine," Chris said. "It's all over."

"M' 'pendix 's gone?" Vin asked.

"Yep, so you just get some sleep now. Me and Ezra are goin' to do the same."

Vin nodded, his eyes closing, but he whispered, "Ya didn't let me go… neither 'a ya…"

Larabee leaned over the tracker, whispering into his ear, "Nope, I didn't let you go… need you too damn much to do that. Y' hear me? So you have to rest now, get well. Promise me."

Vin nodded, the corners of his mouth tightening into a small smile. "Ain't goin'… nowheres… I promise," he breathed airily.

When Chris straightened, Ezra leaned forward, whispering into Vin's ear, "Don't disappoint either of us, Vin. You must get well now. Remember, we both need you… desperately."

Vin smiled again at that. "Sweet talker," he breathed, slipping into a healing sleep.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~* ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Wednesday morning**

 

          Vin drifted slowly toward the embrace of consciousness. It felt like he was floating on a cloud, rising higher and higher into the sky, and he wondered for a moment if he ought to be afraid of falling, but he couldn't hold onto the worry long enough to make it real. He tried to look around, but it was dark. Not black, but shadowed, unfocused. He frowned.

If he was floating on a cloud, shouldn't it be bright with sunlight? Shouldn't there be blue sky overhead?

Unless he was floating in the middle of the cloud… a grey, stormy-looking cloud… but was that possible? Wouldn't he just fall through?

And how'd he get all the way up here, anyway?

But then he couldn't remember exactly where "here" was, or how he'd gotten there, so he let the questions, and the worry, go. It was enough to just float, cradled in the soft, fuzzy truth that was his cloud, so peaceful, so quiet.

He was used to quiet. Not silence. The wilderness was never silent, but it was quiet in ways men and women who lived in towns and cities could never understand. The Indians understood. They valued the quiet. They knew the quiet was where a man went to find himself. And Vin knew he hadn't found himself… not just yet, anyway

Hadn't really, since he'd finally bought his way out of buffalo hunting and took up bounty hunting in its place. It hadn't been a conscious choice on his part really, just something he'd fallen into, but he'd never felt it in his blood. Had known it wasn't what he was meant to do with his life.

Hell, he hadn't really felt anything in his blood until that day in Four Corners.

The day he'd met Chris Larabee's gaze and knew he'd found his destiny.

The Indians had a word for it, but the Whites didn't. Whites didn't have a word to describe knowing, down deep in your soul that you were in the right place, at the right time, with the right people. That the man you rode with was the one the Spirits had created just for that purpose. That the two of you had been meant to find one another – and that meeting had been written, long before, in the stars overhead.

He and Chris were meant to ride together, to complete the missing portions of each other's souls.

He wondered sometimes how White men could live without words for things so important.

But he also knew words weren't really necessary. It was in the quiet that he and Chris spoke what was truly in their hearts. And now, lying in his cloud-shrouded quiet he could hear the soft sound of Larabee's breath being drawn in, then slowly escaping, the blond gunslinger sleeping somewhere close by. The sure knowledge warmed his soul and Vin stretched slightly, trying to remember what it felt like to wear his body again.

A stitch caught and pulled in his side, sending a tiny flare of pain coursing through his otherwise peaceful awareness.

He'd become so familiar with it that he'd somehow forgotten what the absence of pain felt like. But then it wasn't completely absent, he realized. And he frowned again.

The wonderful floating feeling began to fade and he knew his back was pressed against something… something still… and soft… and supportive. He could feel his limbs, too, sore and weak. And his bones too close to the surface of his skin. He could smell his sweat, dried on the surface of that skin and soured by the pain that had held him prisoner for far too long.

So, he hadn't been flying. He had been sleeping, might yet be sleeping; trapped in the world between the worlds. It was the path shaman walked to speak to the Spirits, and Vin wondered if there were Spirits here with him now.

He glanced around him, but there didn't appear to be anything there, just the comforting awareness that Chris was somewhere close by. If he could just wake himself, he would see the man. He could speak to him. But he wasn't at all sure how one went about waking up from this Spirit place.

          He tried to lift his eyelids, but they were heavy and uncooperative. The effort, however, seemed to lift the veil a little higher and he became more aware of his body… of the bed he was lying upon… of the sound of embers, cracking in a stove close by. He could even feel his eyes, moving beneath his closed lids, and before he forced them open he wondered why he couldn't remember when Peso had stomped on him. He ought to remember something like that, shouldn't he? It was the only explanation he could come up with to explain how his belly felt.

Or was it?

Another answer drifted just out of his reach and he shied away from it, toying with the idea of going back to sleep. But then his memory improved, and curiosity got the better of him. He peeked out from under his eyelids and saw early morning sunlight filtering through a window. Beside the window was a closet door and, next to that open door, an older man was stretched out on a cot, his back to Vin, his feet sticking off the end of the cot close to a small woodstove. Vin didn't recognize the man, or the room, and he saw no signs of Chris or Ezra, although he was sure that both were near.

The thought of the gambler set off another bit of pondering. If Chris was who the Spirits had made for him, to complete him, then who was Ezra?

He frowned slightly, trying to recall a story he'd heard once, many years ago… It was about a man who took a wife, a woman he loved as he loved no other… She was, he knew, a gift from the Spirits. But then, one day, he'd met another warrior… And, somehow, he'd known that the warrior had been made for him as well. He loved the warrior, not in the same way as he loved the woman, but in a way that was equally deep and rich… The warrior came to live with them. And, one day, the woman bore the warrior a son, as well as the many she bore her husband. They were all a family…

Had the Spirit sent Ezra to him as well?

Vin wish he could ask them, but he didn't know how. Still, he had lived his life trusting his heart and his gut, and both of them told him that Ezra was a part of him, a part of him and Chris, now… He might not understand it, but it was the way it was. And that was enough for the tracker.

          Vin tried to sit up and look for the two men, but he only managed to lift his head off the pillow before sheer exhaustion pulled it right back down. His stomach ached more, and when he reached down to rub it he found a thick, bulky bandage in the way.

Then he remembered it all – the renegades, his appendix, the wagon trip and, finally, going to sleep with only the faintest hope of ever waking up again.

          But here he was, awake, a bandage on his belly, which still hurt, but nothing like the way it had before. So he must still be alive. And that meant that the stranger lying on the cot must be Dr. Benjamin Griffiss.

          Vin smiled thinly. Chris had promised him that they would get him to the surgeon in time, and, as always, Larabee had been true to his word. And, for a moment the fact that he had such a friend was nearly overwhelming.

          "Vin, are you awake? Are you feeling better?"

          Tanner turned his head to the side and found Ezra just standing up from a chair where he had obviously been sitting for a while. He looked worried.

          "Reckon so," he said and discovered that, while his mouth felt like it was stuffed full of bad-tasting cotton wool, his mind was remarkably clear. "How long?"

          "Were you sleeping?" Ezra asked him, squatting down next to the bed and gently caressing the tracker's face.

          Vin nodded.

          "Since early yesterday morning," he said. "You woke up right after the surgery, but you don't remember that, do you?"

          Vin shook his head, guessing it must be around seven in the morning now. Then vague memories of waking up, sicker than a dog, filtered through the foggy veil that still held him in its grasp. "R'member… thought it… hadn't worked."

          "That was a reaction to the chloroform," Ezra explained softly, the relief in the man's green eyes nearly prompting tears in Vin's. "You should go back to sleep. You need to rest, build your strength back."

          "Ain't sleepy."

          "Would you like some water, then? Maybe some broth?"

          Vin nodded. Both sounded wonderful. "M' legs feel hollow," he rasped. "When c'n I… get somethin' t' eat?"

          "Not too soon, young man. I'm afraid it will be liquids for a couple of days, and then soft foods for another couple," Dr. Griffiss said, sitting up on his cot. "After that, well, we'll see how you're doing and decide then."

          The tracker heard water being pouring from a pitcher at the head of his bed, and then Ezra was helping him to sit up to drink it. It was the best tasting water he'd ever had, and he finished the whole cup without so much as a tiny grumble from his belly.

          "C'n I have a little more?" he asked the doctor hopefully.

          "In a little while. I want you to try some broth first," the doctor told him.

          Tanner nodded his agreement.

          While Ezra busied himself at the stove, Vin tried to figure out where Chris was. A few moments later the gambler handed him a mug full of steaming liquid and the warm aroma of chicken broth was simply too distracting to be ignored. After one tentative sip he forgot all about Larabee and the soup vanished in no time, Vin completely distracted by the wonderful taste and the fact that the food stayed down.

          When he finished it was Chris who took the empty cup from him, smiling and saying, "Welcome back, pard."

          Vin grinned sleepily, "Too bad it was yer ugly face I had t' wake up to."

          "Could always shoot you, ya know, put ya out of your misery," Chris growled back, but the lingering smile was enough to reassure the tracker he was perfectly safe.

"How does the incision feel?" Dr. Griffiss asked him, coming over to the bedside.

Vin thought for a moment, then shrugged and said, "A little sore, but ain't like b'fore. 'Preciate all y' done fer me, Doc. Figgered I was done in."

"Well, you were far closer than you might like to know. But you're quite welcome," the older man replied. "Now, why don't you get some more sleep, let your body heal."

Vin settled back and closed his eyes. He had been awake just a few minutes, really, but he already felt tired and drained. "Chris," he heard himself say, but his voice sounded like it was coming from the far end of a long mine shaft.

"I'm right here," was Larabee's reply, reaching out to give Vin's arm a gentle squeeze. "You need something?"

The tracker had a reply, but he couldn't keep his mind focused on what he'd wanted to say. The warmth of the blankets curled around him, melting his thoughts away and he sank tranquilly into a healing slumber. But, as he drifted off, he felt the reassuring touch of his friends' hands on his shoulders.

"Mmm," he said on a breath. "Gonna like…" _bein' caught between the two 'a ya…_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Wednesday, early afternoon**

 

          The doctor was there when Vin awoke next, telling him that it was time to change the bandages on his incision. The process wasn't too uncomfortable, but a host of other minor medical indignities followed, leaving Tanner a little skittish.

          "Hungry?" Griffiss asked him when he was finally finished.

          Vin nodded, saying, "Reckon so." Anything to get the older man away from him for a while.

          Chris, who had been watching the whole procedure from a chair near the bed, stood and crossed the room. He ladled out a bowlful of broth and carried it over to the tracker, knowing Vin would be more comfortable with him helping than with Dr. Griffiss.

          "Where's Ezra?" Vin asked him as Chris lifted him up partway and slid another pillow behind him.

          "Gettin' some sleep," Chris replied. "I'm going to send him back to Four Corners tomorrow."

          Vin thought for a moment, then said, "Would 'preciate it if y' let 'im stay."

Chris looked a little surprised, but he nodded. "All right."

Vin smiled his thanks, then tried to push himself up a little farther. He stopped suddenly when his side protested the action.

          "Easy, son," Dr. Griffiss said from where he sat at his desk. "Those stitches need time to heal, so go easy whenever you're moving around."

          "How long?" the tracker asked him.

          "Well, you're going to need to stay in bed for three, maybe four days, then we'll see if you can't get up and sit in a chair, start having you walk a little."

"When c'n I ride?" Vin asked him.

"Ride? Oh, you won't be able to ride for at least… three weeks."

          Vin's eyes rounded with equal measures of surprise and despair. "Three weeks?"

          The older man nodded, trying hard not to smile at his patient's tone. "At least, and it might be longer. You wouldn't want to ruin all that hard work I did, now would you?"

          "Eat your soup," Chris said before Vin could argue with the doctor. He was surprised when the tracker actually acquiesced. It appeared that, at least for the moment, Vin knew he wasn't up to anything more than just resting. How long that would last, he couldn't even begin to guess, but he'd be willing to wager it would be a whole lot quicker than three weeks.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Thursday and Friday**

 

          Most of the next two days passed in a hazy fog for Vin, who could only force himself to stay awake for a couple of hours at a time, sleeping away the rest of the time. And when he was awake, his world was limited to eating broth and enduring changes of the bandages on the surgical wound, which had become infected.

Dr. Griffiss assured them that some infection was perfectly normal, but it was uncomfortable enough to make the tracker restless and just serious enough to steal any energy he might have otherwise been able to build up from all the sleep and the regular meals.

Vin was both grateful and humbled that Chris or Ezra were always there beside him each time he awoke, ready to help him, whether it be to eat, or to bring him some more water, or to help him answer the call of nature. As the fever climbed, they also helped ease away the aches in his arms and legs by rubbing them as they talked to him.

The comfortable silence Vin usually shared with his companions gave way to softly spoken conversations, the tracker opening up and talking about his life for the first time, and then listening to Chris' and Ezra's stories in return. Each of the men came away from the talks with more respect for their friend.

Other times, Ezra would read to him, the story and the sound of the gambler's voice as it shifted for each character both entertaining the tracker immensely. Chris seemed to enjoy it, too, because Vin noted that the gunslinger made a point to pull his chair over so he could listen as well.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Friday afternoon**

 

          Vin awoke and stretched carefully. His side still felt a little tender, but he was finally starting to feel rested when he escaped the sleep that seemed determined to hold him in its grasp forever.

          "'Bout time you woke up again," he heard Chris say.

          Vin yawned and carefully eased himself up so he was leaning back against the headboard. "'M gettin' tired 'a sleepin' all the time."

          "Yeah, I would be too. But I have something here that might help."

          Vin looked over at the stove where Larabee worked, wondering what it was going to be this time – chicken broth, beef broth, or barley soup. When Chris returned with a small bowl full of mashed potatoes, the tracker's mouth began to water.

          Larabee chuckled at the hungry look in Tanner's eyes as he handed the bowl over. "Just go slow, okay?"

          Vin nodded, diving into the meal and enjoying it completely.

          While the tracker ate, Chris sat down next to the bed and opened the book Ezra had been reading out loud, picking up where the gambler had left off when Vin had fallen asleep after breakfast.

          Vin listened, grinning and chuckling as he listened to the misadventures of a young boy on the Mississippi River. He wondered what like might have been like if he'd known Chris and Ezra when he was a boy. He could easily imagine the three of them getting into a peck of trouble as boys…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Saturday morning**

 

          "Tired of being stuck in that bed, Vin?" Dr. Griffiss asked after Tanner finished off a breakfast of scrambled eggs and freshly baked bread that had been soaked in milk.

          Vin's expression brightened. "Y' mean it, Doc?" The prospect of escaping the bed, even for a short while, sounded like nothing short of emancipation.

          "Yep," the old man said, chuckling softly. "It's time we got you moving around again, let you build up some strength." He took a spare blanket and draped it across the chair sitting near the small cook stove

          Ezra grinned and stood up from his own chair, ready to help however he could. And, once again, Vin was impressed and humbled by his friend's patience and willingness to help. It wasn't a side of Ezra that they ordinarily saw.

          The doctor moved back to the bed and offered Tanner his arm, saying, "A little walk will do you good. Now, take my arm and sit up like you normally would."

          Tanner nodded and grasped the older man's forearm. The stitches pinched as he sat up, making him grimace, but he was able to ignore it.

          "That hurt?" the doctor asked him.

          "A bit," he admitted a little sheepishly. As much as he wanted to get out of bed, he was suddenly anxious about moving around too much.

          "Don't worry, you're doing fine," Griffiss assured him. "Now, go ahead and stand up."

          Ezra stepped up and took Vin's other arm and the tracker slid off the edge of the bed and slowly straightened. It didn't hurt too much, but he felt a bit lightheaded and was glad for the support the two men were offering.

          "Are you all right?" Ezra asked him.

          "Reckon." He looked down and concentrated on making his feet work, taking one step, then another, and another, until he reached the chair. Once there, he lowered himself down, gritting his teeth in anticipation, but the maneuver was much less painful than he had expected.

          The doctor tucked the blanket around him as Vin settled back with a sigh. It did feel good to be sitting up for a change. He glanced around the room, enjoying the simple fact that he was seeing it from a different angle.

          "Ready to eat some more?" Dr. Griffiss asked him.

          Tanner nodded. He was always ready to eat these days, but he only got halfway through a dish of peaches before his eyelids began to droop. "Aw hell," he sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to fight off the sleep for long.

"That's all right," Dr. Griffiss reassured him. "You did fine."

Ezra and the doctor waited for Vin to finish off the last of his peaches, then they helped him back to bed where he lay down and immediately fell asleep.

The doctor smiled and nodded. "He's doing much better than I expected," he said, looking down at his patient. Then he glanced up at the gambler and added, "But don't tell him I said so. I have a feeling he'd think that meant he was ready to go home."

Ezra grinned. "Yes, I have no doubt it probably would. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me, Doctor."

"I'm going to go pay a visit to one of my other patients," the older man said. "Will you be able to stay with him?"

"Of course," Ezra said. And, once the doctor was gone, he moved a chair over to Vin's bedside and sat down. Looking down at the tracker, who had been cleaned up and shaved by the doctor's niece, he had to admit that Vin Tanner was… irresistible. Bending forward, he planted a light kiss on the sleeping man's lips.

Then, straightening again, he sighed longingly and reached out to card his fingers through the man's hair. He knew he was probably headed for heartache, but he couldn't help falling in love with the man. There was just so much more to the tracker than most people ever imagined… Something, he decided, that they had in common, although not the only thing.

Another was their mutual attraction to one Chris Larabee.

He sighed softly. He had to be crazy to ever think he could… what? Insert himself into the felicity the two men shared?

As likely as a blizzard in July!

And yet Chris had seemed… more well disposed toward him than usual. Granted, he had fetched, toted and worked harder than he had in… well, a considerable time, but since it was all for Vin he hadn't minded in the slightest – a fact that still amazed him. But there had been times he was sure he'd seem gratitude in Chris' eyes. Gratitude and, dare he even think it… affection?

It was a tremendous improvement, really.

And then there had been those moment when he'd seen… what? He wasn't sure. It was a considering look to be sure, but he wasn't at all sure what it meant, or what it might really be.

It made him a little nervous.

He looked back down at Vin and smiled. Oh, to be able to strip off those long johns and really touch the man… explore his flesh… taste it… revel in it…

He swallowed hard and huffed out a breath. Oh no, he simply could _not_ allow his thoughts to wonder in those directions.

"How's he doing?"

Ezra jerked, startled. Damn but the man must be taking lessons in walking silently from Vin! He glanced over his shoulder, wondering briefly how long Larabee had been standing there in the doorway. "He's resting, although you missed the triumph of the day – the doctor had him sitting up in a chair earlier."

Chris smiled, the expression softening the man's countenance in a way that made Ezra feel like he was melting inside. What he'd give to put that look on the gunman's face…

"Bet he was happy about that," Larabee replied, coming over to take a seat in the chair Vin had used.

Ezra nodded. "He even managed to eat some peaches while he sat right there."

Chris nodded. "Means he'll probably think he's ready to ride."

Ezra chuckled. "The doctor's very words."

The blond shook his head. "Well, I don't care if we have to tie him to that bed, he'd not going anywhere until the doc says he's ready."

Ezra swallowed hard again at the thought of the two of them tying Vin into a bed… a big, comfortable feather bed… naked…

"You need a break?" Chris asked.

The gambler knew he must be flushed. "Uh, no, I'm, uh, fine…"

Another slight smile lifted the corners of Larabee's mouth, making Ezra wonder just what the hell the man was thinking.

"Suit yourself," the blond replied, opening the newspaper he'd been carrying and beginning to read, and leaving the flustered gambler to pull himself back together.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Saturday night, late**

 

          Vin knew it was late when he woke next. The lamp was out and no shadows danced in the windows from the street fires outside. In fact, the only light in the room came from the orange glow behind the grate of the cook stove. And in that faint illumination he could see Larabee sitting in the same chair Vin had used earlier. He frowned. That meant that Chris and Ezra were still taking turns watching him through the nights – probably due to the lingering infection.

          The tracker watched quietly for a few moments. Larabee leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped above his knees. It almost looked like the man was praying, but Vin found that hard to believe. But the gunman's appearance was one of worry.

          "Kind 'a late fer y' t' be up, ain't it?" he asked softly.

          Chris glanced over and, finding him awake, stood and crossed to the bedside chair, sitting down again there. "You all right?" he asked.

          Vin nodded, wishing they would all stop asking him that. He wasn't going to stop worrying himself until they did.

          "Want anything? There's still some soup left, and some bread and peaches."

          "Reckon I could eat some of the bread 'n' peaches," Vin said. "'M gettin' damn tired 'a soup."

          "I'll be right back," Chris said, walking quietly over to break some bread into a bowl before he poured the last of the peaches over it and carried it back to Tanner. He sat down to keep the tracker company while he ate.

          "Somethin' on yer mind?" Vin asked after a few bites.

          Chris looked up, meeting his eyes. "Perdue brothers rode into town just before dark," he admitted without sugar-coating it.

          Vin felt his heart begin to race. They had been heading the opposite direction from Sheltonville when they'd left Rudy Wells, hadn't they? "They lookin' fer me?"

          Larabee shrugged. "Don't know yet." Then he added, "Nothin' to worry about, one way or another."

          The tracker finished off his bread and peaches, then accepted a cup of water from Larabee, draining that as well. Despite what the blond had said, Vin looked worried. They both knew it would be at least a few more days before the others arrived from Four Corners. Until then, the three of them would just have to lie low and hope the bounty hunters weren't there looking for him.

          "Let this wait too long," Vin said softly as he shook his head.

          Chris refilled the cup with more water and set it on a small table Dr. Griffiss had found for them to use. It would be in easy reach if Vin wanted it later. "Clearing your name?" the blond guessed.

          The tracker nodded.

          "Just how do you plan on doin' that with Eli Joe dead?"

          Vin thought for a moment, then sighed. "Hell, I don't know, but I can tell y', I'm gettin' damn tired 'a lookin' over m' shoulder all the time."

          Larabee couldn't imagine living with a price on his head. It was bad enough that he had enemies, and a reputation that inclined young men with more guts than brains to sometimes call him out in order to see if they could make a reputation for themselves. But to live as a wanted man, especially when he was innocent, well, that was something the gunman wasn't certain he could do. And in Vin's case, it was Larabee's fault. He had shot and killed the one man who could clear Vin of the murder charge. He looked down, suddenly unable to meet the tracker's eyes.

          "Hell, Chris, it weren't yer fault."

"Like hell it wasn't," Larabee said quietly. "I should've winged him."

          "Y' go 'round wingin' 'em, an' one of 'em is goin' t' kill ya – or one 'a us. Y' did what had t' be done."

          "Damn it, Vin, he was the only one who can clear you."

          Vin sighed softly. They'd had this talk more than once, but no matter what he said, Chris refused to let it go. "Like I told y', Cowboy, can't clear m' name if 'm dead. Figger I'll jist tell the sheriff the truth… an' hope he believes me."

          "You can't take that kind of a chance," Chris said, shaking his head.

          "Better 'n gettin' m'self shot by some bounty hunter lookin' t' collect five hundred dollars. Least I'd have a chance."

          "If you're serious about this, then let's wait 'til we get back to Four Corners. We can talk to Travis, see what he has to say. Maybe he knows someone who can help you."

          "Hell, Cowboy, soon as y' tell 'im the truth, he's goin' t' have t' lock me up. He's a good man, but he lives the law like Josiah does his Bible. I don't reckon on spendin' the rest 'a m' life in no cell. Ain't sure what'd be worst – that or hangin'."

          Chris knew the tracker was right, but he couldn't come up with a better idea. He didn't want Vin to end up dead at the end of a rope, or by a bullet, and, as long as he was alive, he knew he wouldn't allow either one to happen, no matter what it might cost him.

          "Look," Chris said, "you should get some more sleep. We can worry on this later, when you're back on your feet."

          Vin nodded, but he was already making plans.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Sunday morning**

 

          A light knock on the clinic door brought Vin awake instantly. He glanced around, finding the room empty, which sent a momentary panic coursing through his veins. Then he remembered. Dr. Griffiss was at church and Chris and Ezra had headed over to get breakfast at the restaurant in the hotel, with plans to bring him back some flapjacks when they were done. They'd gone together because the Perdue brothers had ridden out at daybreak.

          The knock sounded again.

          Vin tossed the blankets back and sat up. Then he pushed up to his feet and started for the closet where he knew his Mare's Leg was hanging on a peg behind the closed door.

It was a long way from the bed to the closet for the healing man, and he wished he had something to hang on to, his balance still not what it ought to be.

          He stumbled just as he reached the closed door and leaned against the wall as a wave of dizziness swept over him. The vertigo didn't let up as he reached out and weakly gripped the knob, pulling the door open. He took a deep breath and took down the Mare's Leg, hoping the darkness prickling along the edges of his vision didn't overcome him too quickly.

          Then he heard voices, men's voices, outside. He couldn't make out exactly how many there were, but he guessed there had to be at least three, maybe four.

          He pulled the gun from its holster and got it ready to fire. Then he slipped into the closet, pulled the door shut and waited. The minutes that passed as he remained hidden felt like hours, but he had no other choice. He would face the Perdue brothers on his feet, a gun in his hands. And he was sure it must be the bounty hunters.

          "Vin?"

          He recognized the voice immediately.

"Chris?" he called weakly, pushing the door open and stepping out of the closet. The room began to spin again and he would have fallen if Larabee had moved swiftly, grabbing him and pressing him up against the wall. Vin knew he couldn't move, even if his life depended on it, and he wasn't sure that it didn't. "Perdue br—"

          "Gone," Chris said. "The doc and us chased 'em off." And, just as he finished, Dr. Griffiss and Ezra stepped into the room, the surgeon's gaze sweeping over the two men.

          "What happened?" the older man asked, crossing quickly to Larabee's side.

          "Heard a knock an' somebody tryin' t' open the door," Vin managed as the Chris and Ezra helped him back to his bed and got him lying down again.

          Vin closed his eyes, willing the dizziness to go away. A twinge in his side made him wince and before he could say anything, the doctor was checking under the dressing and doing God-knew-what. He forced his eyes open. "They know 'm here?"

          Chris nodded. "They've got suspicions, anyway."

          "Hell," Vin breathed. "We got t' get out 'a here."

          "Vin, you got dizzy walking across the room. How the hell do you think you can ride?" Chris asked him.

          "He _can't_ ride," Dr. Griffiss stated firmly. "He tries and he'll tear those stitches open."

          "Might not have a choice, Doc," Vin replied airily. "Ain't goin' t' lay here 'n' wait fer 'em t' kill me. Perdue brothers never take a bounty in alive if they c'n get paid the same fer 'em dead."

          "Bounty?" the surgeon questioned, looking from Chris to Ezra for an explanation.

          "That's _not_ going to happen," Ezra insisted.

          "Maybe I should speak to the sheriff," Dr. Griffiss said, clearly confused by the whole conversation.

          "No," Chris and Ezra replied in unison.

          "Vin's wanted in Texas for a murder he didn't commit," Larabee explained. He didn't like telling the man, but he didn't see that he had much choice. They needed the man's cooperation.

"You tell the sheriff, he'll have to arrest him," Ezra added. "The situation is… complicated, but I assure you, Mr. Tanner is an innocent man."

          The doctor looked from Ezra to Chris, then down at Vin. "How do we protect him from these men?"

          "We'll do that," Larabee said, his tone hard edged with conviction.

          "Chris," Vin said, "y' can't take a chance with the doc's life."

          Larabee looked down at the tracker, knowing he was right. Meeting the doctor's eyes he asked, "Shouldn't you be getting back to your wife?"

          Dr. Griffiss frowned. "In a few days, yes, but not until Vin's eating solid food, and able to stay awake for several hours at a time."

          Chris didn't like it, but he also knew he wouldn't be able to get the man to leave before he was sure Vin was going to be all right. And, to be honest, he was glad to have the man there to watch over his friend's recovery. But it meant he and Ezra would have to keep an eye on the surgeon, as well as the wanted tracker.

          It was Ezra who added another complication. "If they discover that the good doctor has relatives in town…"

          Chris nodded, then looked at the doctor. "Best if your niece stays here until this is over."

          Dr. Griffiss nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Sunday night**

 

          Vin was up on the rooftops, running as fast as he could. As he neared the edge of the building, he gathered himself and, at the last possible moment, he leaped across the space to the next rooftop and kept running. He knew he had to hurry, although he wasn't sure why, or where it was he was going. But he continued to run, his lungs beginning to burn.

          His side ached, too, and he pressed his hand to it, ignoring the pain as he continued on. He leaped across another space and stumbled to a stop.

 _No_ , he thought, _that can't be possible!_

          But it was. Chris and Eli Joe were locked in a pitched, hand-to-hand battle, and they were moving ever closer to the edge of the roof.

          Vin leaped the last space separating him from the two men and stumbled to a stop. His side was hurting more now, fiery tendrils snaking through his guts and almost making him sick.

          Sunlight, glinting off something in Eli Joe's hand, drew Tanner's attention and he realized it was a knife. The man was getting ready to use it on Chris.

His Mare's Leg came up in his hands, but it was already too late. Eli Joe plunged the knife into Chris' belly, the gunman crying out in reaction.

          "No!" Vin yelled, watching as blood bubbled up and over Larabee's lips and the man's eyes locked on his, rounded with pain and surprise. "Chris!"

          Eli Joe jerked the knife free, laughing. Not far away, Vin realized that Ezra was also lying on the rooftop, already dead…

Eli Joe looked at Vin, then raised the knife over his head, letting loose with a war cry. Larabee dropped to his knees, his hands pressed to his belly, trying to hold back the torrent of blood that flowed between his fingers. And, as Vin watched, the life in the man's eyes slowly faded away.

          "Chris!" he cried again. "No!"

Vin pulled the trigger on the Mare's Leg, watching from the corner of his eye as Eli Joe was lifted off his feet and thrown off the edge of the roof. He could hear the man's scream as he fell, but he didn't care. He dropped the Mare's Leg and rushed to Larabee's side just in time to catch the man as he pitched forward.

          "Chris?" he called softly as he cradled the man in his arms. "Chris?"

          Hazel eyes fluttered open and Larabee stared up at him. "You shouldn't've killed him," he breathed, blood frothing over his lips. "He could've cleared your name." And then the man's eyes dropped closed again.

          "Chris?" Vin called, but this time he knew there would be no answer coming. "Chris!" he cried, gathering the man closer. "Ezra!" he cried, using one hand to reach out and pull the man closer. When he managed to roll the gambler over, he saw that Ezra's throat had been cut. "No," he keened. "No…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Vin? Vin, settle down, damn it."

          Hands grabbed his arms and the tracker jerked awake. Chris was leaning over him, holding him down.

          "Settle down," Larabee repeated. "You're going to hurt yourself."

          Vin relaxed, forcing away the haunting images that still clung to his awareness. Chris was alive – alive and well.

          "That's better," the gambler said, sounding relieved.

          Thank God. Ezra was all right, too.

          The pressure in his side let up and Vin realized that Dr. Griffiss was there as well, and had been pressing down on the bandage.

          "Easy, son," the older man said. "I don't want you to pull out those stitches now."

          Vin nodded, but he couldn't seem to stop his body from shaking, his heart still racing from his dream run.

          "I'll get some water," Ezra said and stepped away.

Vin heard the cup being filled and then Chris was lifting him up and holding the cup to his lips. He gulped the cool liquid down, then sighed as he sagged in Larabee's grasp.

"Bad dreams?" Chris asked him.

Vin nodded, more relieved than he could really explain; thankfully he didn't have to.

"Just the last of your fever breaking," Dr. Griffiss said. "I know it probably doesn't feel like it right now, but it's a good thing."

Vin nodded, his eyes closing as he tried again to will his body to cease shaking, but it didn't work any better this time than it had the last. Images from the dream flashed through his mind and he forced his eyes open, not wanting to see Larabee die like that again, or see Ezra already dead.

"Easy, easy," Chris said, reaching out to push the sweat-damp hair off Vin's forehead. "Whatever it was, it was just a dream."

Vin nodded, but he wasn't quite sure that fact meant that there wasn't any danger to Larabee. The Spirits used dreams to teach and to warn. Maybe they were trying to tell him that Ezra and Chris was in danger here. That the Perdue brothers were going to kill them. He couldn't allow that to happen.

A loud knock sounded at the door.

Chris shot to his feet, his Colt in his hand an instant later. Dr. Griffiss sucked in a sharp breath at Larabee's speed.

"You expecting anyone?" the gunman asked him.

Dr. Griffiss shook his head.

Then a voice called, "Benjamin! Benjamin, it's Sally! She's havin' her baby!"

"Oh no," the older man breathed. "It's too soon." He stalked over and grabbed his black bag, saying over his shoulder as he left, "Keep him in bed and resting; give him plenty of water and whatever food he can tolerate. I'll be back as soon as I can."

And then he was gone and the three peacekeepers were alone.

"Stay with him," Chris told Ezra and the gambler nodded and followed after the doctor. Then he turned back to Vin and added, "You heard the man… get some sleep."

Vin didn't want to sleep, afraid the dreams might return, but his body seemed to have a mind of its own these days. His eyes dropped closed and he was soon slumbering again, secure that Chris was there to watch his back.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Monday morning, just before dawn**

 

          Vin awoke from another bad dream, panting as he tried to catch his breath. He had seen Chris and Ezra killed – again.

Being as quiet as he could, Vin pushed himself up and then leaned over to get the cup of water waiting for him on the small bedside table. He drained the cup and set it down, then sagged back against his pillows. That's when he heard it, the unmistakable snick of a pistol being cocked.

He looked, finding Chris standing near the window, his Colt in his hand. "What's goin' on?" Vin asked.

"I saw the Perdues leaving the livery a few moments ago," Ezra said quietly.

"Could be they's leavin' town," Vin said.

"Could be they're going to make their move," Chris countered.

"They had a spare horse with them," Ezra added.

"Help me up," Vin said.

"You stay put," Chris told him. "We'll take care of this." The blond moved away from the window, heading for the door. "Ezra, with me."

"Chris," Vin called quietly, but it did nothing to stop the gunslinger. "Chris!" But Larabee was gone.

Vin only hesitated for a moment, then he tossed the blankets back and sat up. He was getting stronger, but the walk to the storage room to get his Mare's Leg still left him breathing hard and trembling with fatigue. He stopped long enough to pull his pants on, then drew a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his face, and forced himself back onto his feet.

He crossed the room, opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. There, using the wall for support, he made his way slowly to the front door of the clinic. Pulling it open just a crack, he checked the street. There was no one out yet, the sun still not up. There was also no sign of Chris or Ezra.

Cursing softly, he closed the door, bolted it, and made his way down the hall to the opposite end. Dr. Griffiss had had him shuffling up and down the passage to build up his strength, but this time it looked much longer than it had in a while. Still, he finally reached the back door to the clinic and opened it just far enough to get a look at the alley, leaning heavily against the wall as he did.

Still nothing, as far as he could see.

But just then he saw a rifle barrel start to poke through the opened door. Tanner slammed the door closed and threw the bolt across it. He managed to take a step back just before something heavy hit the door, causing the boards to creak under the assault. Dalton Perdue was a sizeable man, Vin knew.

Tanner hurried as quickly as he could back to his room, stepping inside just as Dalton crashed through the back door. Vin shut his door as well, grabbing a chair and wedging the under the knob to buy himself some time, or so he hoped.

Before he could anything more, Daniel Perdue stepped out of the storage closet, his Colt already in his hand and pointed at Vin.

"That's far enough, Tanner."

The tracker froze, his Mare's Leg in his hands and pointed at Daniel.

Dalton pounded on the door, bellowing, "Daniel, open up!"

"Can't," the younger man called. "Got us a standoff in here."

They both heard Dalton curse.

"Where's your friends?" Daniel asked the tracker.

Vin shrugged. "Don't matter. Y' got me. What're y' goin' t' do with me?"

"Gonna kill ya and take ya back t' Tascosa, collect that five hundred dollar bounty," the man answered matter-of-factly.

"I don't think so," Larabee said, stepping into the room from the storage closet, surprising both Vin and Perdue.

Events suddenly turned dream-like for the tracker, everything unfolding slower than they really were, as Vin saw the bounty hunter's finger begin to tighten on the Colt's trigger as Daniel turned away from him and aimed at the closet – at Chris.

Vin felt his own finger begin to tighten as well, although he was turning away from both of the other men in the room, even if he didn't really understand why.

There was a deafening roar inside the room – Larabee's Colt – and Tanner caught sight of Daniel Perdue as he was spun around, arms and legs flapping loose-jointed for a moment before he collapsed to the floor. In the same moment, the door burst open, the chair Vin had used to secure the door skittering across the floor and colliding with the stove.

Dalton stepped into the room just in time to see his brother hit the floor the split second before he yelled and pumped out a shot in Larabee's direction. He missed the gunslinger, but shattered the window. In the same instant that Perdue fired, Tanner sank slightly, getting off two quick shots with the Mare's Leg, the force of the impacts knocking Dalton out of the doorway and into the hall.

And then everything returned to normal speed.

Vin swung back, his gaze sweeping frantically over the room, looking for Larabee. "Chris?" he called.

Chris pushed himself up off the floor, his Colt still in his hand. He approached Daniel Perdue first, checking to make sure the man was dead before he crossed the room and stepped out into the hallway to check on Dalton. The older Perdue brother was slumped against the far wall of the hallway, his chest and face a mangled, bloody mess. Larabee didn't have to check to know the man was dead.

When Chris heard a dull _thud_ in the other room, he holstered his Colt and stepped back in to find Tanner on the floor.

"Vin!" he called, two swift strides carrying him to the tracker's side. He knelt down, quickly checking to see if the man had somehow gotten shot, but he was fine.

"How'd y' get in here?" Vin asked airily, his muscles quaking with fatigue, his legs no longer strong enough to support him.

"Root cellar," Larabee replied. "Opens up in the closet."

"Way Perdue got in…"

Chris nodded. "He left the door to the cellar open. I couldn't miss it." Then he reached down, saying, "Come on, let's get you back into bed before you ruin all of the doc's hard work."

"Where's Ezra?" Vin asked as Chris got him back on his feet.

"Escorting their two friends out of town," the blond replied.

With the gunslinger's help Vin shuffled over to the bed. He sank down onto the edge and then stretched out, wishing he didn't feel like he'd just been trampled by a herd of buffalo. Chris poured him some water, which he drank down.

A moment later the local sheriff and one of his deputies burst into the room, their guns drawn.

Chris and Vin both raised their hands, knowing the lawmen might be quick on their triggers.

The sheriff frowned, looking down at Daniel Perdue. "Mr. Larabee, what's going on?"

Chris pulled a blanket up over Vin, then turned to the lawman. "Hell if I know, Sheriff," he replied smoothly. "This one came out of the doc's storage closet and the other one busted the door down and started shooting." He nodded at the shattered window.

"You boys all right?" the lawmen asked them, walking over to check Daniel while his deputy stepped out into the hall to look Dalton over.

"Think so," Chris replied, "but I'll be glad when Dr. Griffiss gets back and can take a look at his stitches."

Sheriff Tom Henry glanced from the dead man to the two regulators again. The injured man, whose name he hadn't gotten, looked pale and shaky, Larabee calm and collected. He'd heard plenty about Chris Larabee, and the other six men who protected the small desert town of Four Corners, and all of it was good. "Doc's got himself a cellar. He probably used that to get into the clinic," he said, nodding at Daniel Perdue.

Larabee nodded. "What do you figure he was after?" he asked, hoping the Perdues hadn't stopped to tell the sheriff that they were after a bounty in his town.

Henry shrugged one shoulder. "Never seen 'em before. Might be after some of the doc's drugs – had that happen a couple 'a times already. Or maybe they thought the doc had some money stashed in the clinic."

Larabee nodded. "Need some help hauling 'em over to the undertakers?"

The deputy nodded. "I'd appreciate it. The one out in the hall is a big feller."

The sheriff looked at Vin, asking, "How're ya doin', son?"

"Reckon I'll live," Tanner replied.

"Never got your n—"

"Sheriff, if ya don't mind, I'd like to get these bodies out of here so I can clean the place up before the doc gets back," Chris interrupted. "He's off delivering a baby."

"Sally Adams," the lawman said, nodding and looking thoughtful. "Hell, she' ain't due for another couple 'a weeks." Henry hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He didn't need to know what was going on. Larabee and his friends were peacekeepers, just like he was. Besides, he'd heard Orin Travis had hired them all personally to protect the town his daughter-in-law and grandson lived in, and that was good enough for him. Hell, couldn't ask for a better recommendation, if you asked him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Monday evening**

 

          Vin awoke to the tantalizing smell of pot roast and the buzz of achingly familiar voices. He lay still, enjoying the sounds and smells, allowing himself to come fully awake a little at a time.

So, the others had finally arrived – Buck and Josiah… He hoped that meant they would _all_ be returning home soon.

          Home… Good Lord Almighty, when had he started to think about Four Corners and the men he worked with as home, family?

Not that it really mattered. He did, and they all seemed to feel the same. Even Ezra, who tried harder than the rest of them to deny both facts. But Vin had a feeling that might change if the gambler found himself saddled with him and Chris… He grinned to himself, thinking about how he might be able to pull that off.

          And he _would_ be going home, Vin knew. The Perdue brothers were dead, their friends run off. The sheriff hadn't asked any more questions, and Dr. Griffiss had seen him earlier and he'd said Vin hadn't done any harm to himself.

Chris had kept his promise, just like he always did.

And Chris and Ezra hadn't been hurt, either.

Vin decided the Spirits had been good to him, and he'd have to make a point of thanking them good and proper when he got back.

          He opened his eyes then, watching as Buck fussed over a tray. Josiah was seated close by, watching the ladies' man while Chris paced, clearly growing impatient with Wilmington's antics. Dr. Griffiss was nowhere to be seen.

          "Welcome back, brother," Josiah rumbled softly, seeing that Vin was awake.

          "That m' dinner?" the tracker asked hopefully. It smelled heavenly.

          The former priest nodded.

          "And it's all ready for ya now, too," Buck said, carrying a tray over.

          Tanner's mouth started watering as soon as he saw what was there: roast beef, mashed potatoes and a pile of string beans.

          Chris walked over and helped Vin to sit up, then slipped a couple of extra pillows behind him so the tracker could lean back against them to eat.

Vin glanced up at the man, knowing instantly that something was bothering him. "Y' look like y' got somethin' chewin' on ya," he said.

          Chris hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Worried about the sheriff getting curious about why two known bounty hunters would break into Dr. Griffiss' clinic."

          Tanner nodded. "Guess if he does I'll be takin' care 'a that business sooner 'stead 'a later."

          "There has to be some way to—"

          "Y' heard the Doc, Chris. Can't ride fer another couple 'a weeks."

          "Vin, I'm not going to—"

          "Gotta be done, Cowboy – sooner or later."

          Larabee's eyes flashed, but he held his tongue. "Eat," he finally said. "The sooner you get your strength back, the sooner we can go home."

          _Home_ , Vin thought. _Damn, but I like the sound 'a that_.

          "So, ya been over to the saloon?" Buck asked the tracker, sitting down next to Josiah. "There's this little gal over there could turn a cat's head away from cream…"

          Vin ate his dinner, not paying much attention to the ladies' man as he rambled on. Larabee continued to prowl in the office, stopping often to check out the window. After a while, it was getting on all their nerves.

          Then the door opened and Ezra entered, looking more than a little pleased with himself. The man's expression wasn't missed by the others, either.

          "That looks like good news," Josiah rumbled.

          The gambler nodded. "I would think so, yes."

          Buck waited a couple of seconds, then sighed and asked, "Well, you plan to share, or do we have to sit here waitin' all night?"

          Ezra walked over and sat down next to Josiah, leaning back as he said, "I was over in the saloon, playing poker with one of the sheriff's deputies…"

          "And?" Buck encouraged.

          Ezra smile indulgently. "And I learned that the two men who had been riding with the Perdues were arrested earlier today."

          "Arrested?" Chris echoed. "For what?"

          "Trying to rob the bank in Tumbleweed," Ezra supplied. He grinned broadly, his gold tooth flashing.

          "So?" Buck asked, confused.

          Ezra sighed, loudly. "So," he said, pinning the ladies' man with a look that made Buck squirm, "I have no doubt that the news had diverted the sheriff's curiosity from Mr. Tanner. After all, if the men the Perdues were riding with would rob a bank, there's no reason to think they might not also attempt to rob a doctor's office…"

          "Hope you're right," Chris said, but he already looked more relaxed.

          The tracker had a pretty good idea that Ezra had left his game early to come tell them that, to ease Chris' worry… Yep, he was going to have to make sure Ez fell in with him and Chris. And he was pretty sure he knew just how to pull it off, too. "'Preciate it," Vin said, his gaze locked on Ezra's.

          The gambler nodded.

          "Well, anybody else hungry?" Buck asked.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**A week later**

 

          Dr. Griffiss took a step back from his exam table and smiled at Vin. "Well, I didn't think I'd be saying this so soon, but I think you're well enough to ride."

          Blue eyes rounded with happy surprise. "Y' mean it, Doc?"

          "Yes. I am very pleased with how quickly you've healed. However, you must to take it slowly, and if your fever returns, you'll need to stop and rest until it's gone again – understand?"

          Vin nodded and Chris added, "We understand," from where he stood, leaning against the wall, watching the examination.

          "Yes, we'll ensure that Mr. Tanner takes good care of himself," Ezra added from where he'd sat in a chair, waiting to see what the doctor decided.

          Vin fought to keep from rolling his eyes. "When can I go, Doc?"

          "Tomorrow," the older man replied. "And I'll be riding along with you, as far as Rudy Wells, at least. It's time I got back to my wife."

          "Sounds good," Chris replied, knowing he was going to worry about Vin once the doctor reached his home. But he and Ezra would make sure the tracker took care of himself. Tanner damn well better. He had plans for the man once they were back in Four Corners.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Tuesday**

 

          The following morning it was a small contingent that left Rudy Wells. Dr. Griffiss drove the wagon, the peacekeepers all riding on horseback.

They traveled slowly, stopping in the early afternoon so Vin could rest, have a good meal, and get a goodnight's sleep in the back of the wagon – the one thing the tracker didn't argue with them about. In fact, Vin looked downright relieved to lay down on the soft feather mattress after several hours on horseback.

          Chris climbed into the wagon to check on Vin about an hour later. He found the man lying comfortably on the feather mattress, looking so much better than the last time that he'd seen him in the wagon he couldn't help but smile.

          "What?" Vin asked, his expression softening.

          Chris shook his head, relief flooding through him like the warmth from a shot of expensive liquor. "Just glad you're alive," he said quietly, his voice tight with pent-up emotion. He reached out, giving the tracker's shoulder a tender squeeze.

          Vin sat up, his hands coming up to cup Chris' face, then he kissed the man, deeply, passionately. And the blond responded, grinding his lisp against Vin's for several long seconds, then he pulled back and glanced around, afraid they might have been caught, but there was no one else around. In the distance they could hear Buck telling a story, and laughter coming from the others.

          "When we get back…" Chris said quietly, his gaze sweeping hungrily over the tracker.

          Vin grinned. "Yer right, 'bout that," he agreed, blue eyes filled with a hunger of their own which set Larabee's blood on fire.

          "Damn, Vin, don't look at me like that," Chris said, feeling his cheeks beginning to burn.

          That made Tanner grin. "Why?"

          "'Cause I gotta climb outta this damn wagon and go back and sit down with 'em," he half-growled at the tracker.

          Vin's grin widened as he reached out and cupped the straining erection that was trapped inside Chris' pants. "Quite a snake y' got down there, pard."

          Chris batted the man's hand away and pulled back, muttering, "Goddamn pain-in-the-ass…"

          "Mmm," Vin replied, wiggling down a little farther under the covers, "can't wait t' feel y' fillin' up m' ass."

          "Damn it, Tanner, are you tryin' t' kill me?"

          Vin smiled. "What's the matter, Larabee, pants too tight?"

          "Bastard," Chris hissed as he turned and climbed out of the wagon, muttering darkly the entire time.

          Vin listened to him go, chuckling.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Friday afternoon**

 

          The peacekeepers and Dr. Griffiss reached Rudy Well about an hour before the sunset. The doctor insisted Vin accompany him to his office, so he could give the tracker an examination.

When they reached the Griffiss' home they found Nathan waiting there for them.

"You're lookin' real good, Vin," the healer said, his gaze traveling over the tracker to make sure he was all right.

"Feeling a whole lot better," Tanner replied. "The doc did a good job on me."

"And now I'm going to go make sure this trip hasn't undone any of that good work," Dr. Griffiss said, placing his hand on Vin's shoulder and directing the younger man into the building.

"Mind if I tag along?" Nathan asked the doctor.

"Be delighted, Mr. Jackson," Benjamin replied with a smile.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After a mercifully short examination, Dr. Griffiss allowed Vin to escape the exam room, he and Nathan disappearing into the parlor for the next several hours.

For his part, Vin quickly found the others at the hotel and accompanied them to dinner at one of the local restaurants.

"Damn, Vin," Buck said as Tanner finished off his fourth biscuit, "I swear you've got yourself a hollow leg."

Tanner grinned. "An' it's still half empty," he told the ladies' man, reaching for the last of mashed potatoes.

The others shook their heads, but they were all pleased to see that Vin was getting back to normal.

"Well," Ezra said, pushing to his feet, "I plan to see what kind of poker players Rudy Wells is home to. Anyone care to join me in a game of chance?"

"Why not," Buck said, wiping his moustache with his napkin and standing.

"I'm feeling lucky this evening," Josiah added, standing as well. "Chris?"

Larabee shook his head. "Promised the doc I'd make sure Vin got to bed as soon as he finished eating," he said, then added, "Might join you later, though."

"Hell, Chris, y' c'n go. I c'n find the hotel by m'self," Vin told him, but his eyes were alight with hope.

"And have you do something crazy like climb out on the roof for a look at the stars?" Larabee countered. "Nope. I gave the doc my word."

"Suit yerself," Vin replied, shaking his head, but he was already buzzing with excitement.

The others left Chris and Vin at the table, the two men each finishing off another cup of coffee before they headed back to the hotel.

When they reached the room they'd be sharing – Josiah and Nathan had the one on their right, Buck and Ezra the one on their left – Chris waited until Vin lit the lamp, then locked the door and walked over to the tracker, pulling him into his arms and kissing him until they both pulled apart, breathless and aroused.

"Damn but y' feel good," Vin breathed, his voice airy with need.

"So do you," Chris admitted.

They moved to the bed, Vin stripping out of his clothes while Chris turned the covers back. The tracker still wore a bandage over the incision, but there were no signs of blood or seepage on the clean white strips of cloth.

The tracker lay down wearing just the bottoms of his long johns and frowned up at the gunslinger. "Ain't y' gonna get undressed?"

Larabee shook his head. "Gonna go join the boys for a while."

Vin pouted. "Y' are?'

Chris nodded, then grinned – the expression decidedly predatory. "Soon as I take care of that," he added, nodding at the tracker's tented underpants.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          By the time Chris joined the others in the saloon, Nathan had returned as well. The doctor had promised to wire the healer the next time he needed to perform surgery on someone's appendix. Nathan planned to come and assist the man so he could learn how to do the procedure himself.

The healer was clearly excited about the prospect.

"I suppose the sporting thing to do, then, is begin a pool," Ezra said when Nathan had finished telling them about it.

"A pool?" the healer asked.

"As to who your first… victim might be," the gambler said, gesturing at the men seated with him.

The others grinned.

"Put me down for JD," Buck said, sounding confident.

"I'll take Buck," Josiah added, getting a wounded glare from the ladies' man.

Nathan's expression turned indignant. "This ain't nothing to be pokin' fun at," he said, but the corners of his mouth twitched as he added, "but I reckon ya can put me down for _you_ ," he said, pointing at the gambler.

"Me?" Ezra replied, then shook his head. "It will undoubtedly be Mr. Larabee."

That brought Chris' head up. "Why?" the blond demanded.

"You and Mr. Tanner seem to share a most peculiar bond," the gambler stated reasonably. "I'm simply betting on the fact that where Mr. Tanner goes, you are soon to follow."

Chris snorted and shook his head. "Only thing peculiar 'round here is the way you think," he retorted.

The others all smiled or laughed.

"Who ya going to put _your_ money on?" Buck asked his longtime friend.

Chris thought for a moment, then said, "Vin."

Nathan shook his head. "Once ya had it taken out, it don't grow back," he said.

Larabee met the healer's eyes as he asked, "You sure?"

Nathan nodded.

"This _is_ Vin we're talking about," he reminded the healer.

Nathan frowned, then nodded. "I'll double-check with the doc…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Saturday**

 

          The following morning, after a huge breakfast at the Griffiss' home, the peacekeepers headed out again, Josiah, Buck and Nathan riding on ahead of Chris, Vin and Ezra, who would be following a day or so behind, riding at a slower pace that hopefully wouldn't over-fatigue Vin.

          Ezra had thought he'd be riding back with the others, but Chris had made it clear that he expected the gambler to ride with him and Vin, and so he had, but he knew the men must want to be alone, to be close in ways they couldn't be if someone else was around… At least that's what _he'd_ want, if it was him who… What?

          Was a lover to either of them?

          He shook his head, knowing such flights of fantasy were recipes for heartache… But he couldn't forget what Vin had said to him, either.

          Being caught between anxiousness and hope wasn't something he enjoyed, but he wasn't sure what to do about it, either. He assumed that once they returned home, things would simply return to the way they had been… And he wasn't sure if he was glad about that or not.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Chris stared at Ezra's back, the gambler riding a good ways ahead of them. "Something wrong with him?" he asked Vin.

          Vin nodded. "Reckon there might be."

          Chris looked at him, frowning. "What?"

Vin thought for a moment, wondering how best to approach this with Chris, but then decided the easiest would be to just jump right in. "Y' remember I told y' he caught us t'gether, that day out in your barn?"

          Larabee's eyes narrowed and his gaze snapped from Vin to Ezra's back before returning to meet amused blue eyes. "Yeah…"

          "He weren't mad or nothin'. Hell, if anything I'd say it left 'im… curious."

          That forced a blush to Chris' cheeks. "Curious?"

          Vin grinned and nodded.

          Chris huffed out a breath and the two men rode along in silence for several minutes before the blond said, "He was more of a help with you than I expected," the gunman admitted. "Couldn't figure it, at first – you know how he is about 'manual labor' and all."

          Vin nodded.

          "But then…"

          "What?" Vin asked, thinking he might have less to convince the man about than he'd thought.

          "Watchin' him with you… He cares about you, Vin. He cares a lot."

          Tanner nodded again. "Reckon I figgered that out, too." He paused for a moment, then added, "But it ain't just me…" He saw Chris flinch slightly and said, "That a problem?"

          "No…" Larabee said, but his tone said clearly that the man was still trying to ponder that one.

          "Y' ever think about it?"

          "About what?" Chris asked, already beginning to feel his pants tightening.

          "What it might be like…" The immediate flush on the blond's face told him plainly that Chris had entertained a few fantasies.

          "I'd be lyin' if I said no," Chris grumbled.

          "Was hopin' you'd say that," Vin replied with a grin, "'cause I had me this idea…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Tuesday**

 

          Vin's ideas, however, were placed on hold for a few days once he, Chris and Ezra reached Four Corners. Nathan insisted that the tracker spend two days at the clinic – to be sure everything was all right, and that the ride hadn't done him any harm.

          Vin tried to wheedle his way out of it, but the healer would not be denied. So, with a defeated sigh Tanner had followed the man up the steps for his forty-eight hours of confinement…

          And just as soon as Nathan cut him loose, Vin headed straight over to the church for a chat with Josiah, then he went and found Chris and, that very same afternoon, the pair headed out to Larabee's cabin, Vin having reached the end of his tolerance for healers, people, and towns.

          Ezra watched the two men as they rode away, knowing the intimacy they would likely share, and felt a sting of longing, but he forced it away and headed back into the saloon, determined that a good game would lift the melancholy he was feeling.

          He was wrong.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Once Chris and Vin reached the cabin, they took care of their horses and then headed inside.

          Vin wasted no time. As soon as the door was shut, he reached out and pulled Chris to him, kissing him with all the pent up need he'd been battling over the past few days. But while Chris returned the kiss with equal fervor, he refused to take it any further.

"We're gonna eat and we're gonna get some sleep," he told the tracker, sounding very reasonable, he thought.

          "But, Chris—"

          "You heard me," the gunslinger interrupted. "Food. Sleep. That's all. You just got out of the clinic."

          "Didn't need t' be there in the first place," the tracker argued. "Nathan was just bein' careful – too careful."

          "Yeah? Well, so am I," Chris replied.

          Vin sighed and pouted, but it didn't do a damn thing to change Larabee's mind. So, two hours later, the two men had finished supper and were lying in bed together, Vin curled up next to the blond.

          "Y' sure?" Vin asked, his hand rubbing lightly over Chris' chest.

          "Yep," Chris replied, reaching up to stop the teasing before he lost his resolve.

          Vin huffed out a breath through his nose. "Damn, Cowboy, y' trying t' kill me here?"

          "No," he replied, "just trying to make sure you're all healed up."

          "If I wasn't healed up, the doc wouldn't 'a let me leave Rudy Wells!" Tanner nearly wailed.

          "That was a long ride home, Vin…"

          "Yeah, 'n' I spent two days layin' on m' back, gettin' over it, too."

          "Exactly. You need to build your strength up."

          "Strength's doin' fine… Other things are, too."

          "Other things can just goddamn wait."

          Vin opened his mouth to argue, but he knew it was going to come out as a whine, so he stopped himself and sighed – loudly. "Fine, have it yer way… Goddamn stubborn no-account gunslinger…"

          Chris grinned in the darkness. "Goodnight, Vin."

          "Says you. Don't see much that's good 'bout it…"

          Larabee gave the man a squeeze and closed his eyes. He didn't want to wait any more than Vin did, but he also couldn't quite chase the lingering memories of Vin, suffering, almost dying, from his mind, either. He needed to be sure the tracker was all right…

          "Tomorrow?" Vin asked quietly, hopefully.

          His eyes still closed, Chris smiled. "Yeah… tomorrow…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The first thought that made it into his mind was: He'd died, and gone to heaven. The second: He never should have told Vin tomorrow… Larabee groaned, his toes curling inside his socks, then his hands came up, his fingers sliding into the loose sleep-tangled curls of Vin's long hair, and held on.

The tracker continued to lave the underside of the blond's cock with his tongue, enjoying the way Chris' shaft slowly hardened in his mouth. Then Vin slid up and sucked the head into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the cap and teasing under the glans.

Larabee sucked in a sharp breath, his hips coming up off the mattress. But Vin was keeping him from sliding farther into his mouth.

Tanner's head came up and he grinned at the older man. "It's t'marraw," he drawled.

Chris rolled his head from side to side. "Damn, Tanner, you're nothing but a goddamn tease."

"Mmm, let's see 'bout that," the tracker replied, head bending forward and, a moment later, Chris found himself engulfed in the man's mouth.

"Ahh," Larabee cried, his hips bucking up this time. And, just when he thought he was about to come, Vin pulled off again. "Damn it, Tanner!"

Vin grinned at him. "What's wrong?" The blond glowered at him. "Was just thinkin' maybe we should wait another day… T' be sure m' strength is all back…"

The gunman had had all he was going to stand. Chris rolled over, forcing Tanner onto his back, and straddled the younger man's thighs. He looked down at the surgery scar, which was nothing more than a thick line of dark pink flesh now. Tanner was healed, and he'd built back a great deal of his strength. There was really no reason to wait any longer…

Vin was still grinning up at him, but then his attention shifted from Chris' eyes to his erect cock, which was jutting straight out from the blond's body, pointing right at Vin. The tracker wriggled under him.

"Y' gonna shoot me with that thing?" Tanner asked coyly.

In a move that was faster than even Chris expected it to be, the gunslinger swung one leg over Vin and slapped him on the flank, snapping, "Turn that ass over."

Tanner was eager to comply. He rolled over onto his belly, then reached up and grabbed one of the pillows, shoving it down under his hips. As he did, Chris reached for the small bottle of oil he kept on the small bedside table.

Pouring some of the sweet-smelling liquid into his palm, Chris quickly slicked his cock, then poured a small amount more into his palm. And, after setting the bottle aside, he pulled Vin's crack open and let the oil in his hand dribble onto the tight pucker buried inside. Tanner moaned softly and spread his legs a little wider.

Chris used his finger to drain some of the oil into the tight channel, twisting it around to make sure the man was well coated and to loosen him up some.

Vin moaned and panted, his legs falling open farther.

Chris grinned, pulling his finger free and rubbing what was left of the oil in his palm down his middle finger, then he slid both inside the tracker.

He heard Vin hiss and watched his muscles tighten. The ring of muscle clutched at his fingers for a moment, then, slowly, released him. When he could feel no more grab, Chris slid his fingers in deeper, then slowly twisted them left and right before pulling them almost all the way out again. He pressed in again, repeating the action.

Vin breathed deeply, his head and chest arching up, hips pressing down against the pillow. "Chris," he breathed.

"Mmm," Larabee replied, his fingers picking up a little speed, sinking in and pulling out a little faster.

"Oh God," Vin gasped, hips titling in the opposition direction, forcing his ass up, inviting deeper penetration. And Chris obliged.

"Chris," the tracker whimpered, "need y', Cowboy."

Chris smiled at that. Pulling his fingers free, he repositioned himself between Vin's legs, then reached down and gripped the base of his cock, guiding the tip to the pucker, smearing the liquid that was leaking from his slit over it.

"Chris, please…" Vin moaned.

Larabee pointed himself at Vin's hole and began to push.

The oil made penetration relatively easy, but the intense tightness and heat had Chris fighting back orgasm as soon as the head of his cock slipped into it. He stopped, keeping a tight hold on the base of his shaft and taking several deep breaths to take a step back from that edge.

For his part, Vin shuddered and twitched beneath Larabee, his hips jerking slightly up and back as he tried to sink the blond deeper himself.

When Chris knew he wasn't going to come as soon as he started to move, he released his cock and reached out, pulling Vin's cheeks apart so he could watch as he slowly pressed deeper into the man.

Vin gasped and grunted, his head and chest arching up again. Then he pressed his chest and cheek to the mattress and lifted his hips up.

Chris shifted his grip, taking hold of Tanner's hips and pulling them up slightly, sinking himself in faster. A few moments later he was buried in the molten heat that sheathed his cock in its squeezing grip.

Vin tightened his muscles, increasing the pressure on Chris' cock and making the blond hiss.

"Move, damn ya," the tracker growled.

Still holding on to Vin's hips, the gunman began to rock his pelvis, then pulled out a tiny bit and pressed back in. He repeated that move, over and over, knowing he was knocking against Vin's pleasure spot each time he did.

The tracker's body went wild, jerking, thrusting, squeezing. And, as soon as Chris saw Vin reach under himself for his cock, he stopped.

"Chris!" the man yowled.

Without a word Chris pulled back until his glans were caught behind the ring of twitching muscle, then he stabbed back in.

"Ah! Chris!" Vin cried, his fingers curling around his shaft and beginning to jerk on it.

Chris let himself go then, riding the younger man the way he knew Vin liked it – hard and fast. And Tanner's hips bucked up to meet him, urging him to take him harder and faster still.

"Chris!" Vin hollered again. "Ah shit! Chris!"

Larabee felt it then, the wild dance of Tanner's ass as the tracker came, his seed spilling out into his hand. The feel of the man's muscles responding like that was all he could take, and Chris plunged in as deeply as he could, his whole body rocking against Vin's as he emptied himself into the man's guts. All the fear he'd felt, all the despair, emptied with his seed until all that was left was love and hope and contentment.

Chris slumped over, his hands braced on either side of Vin, sweat falling from his chin onto the tracker's back. One last bit of his seed welled up and escaped his cock, and he could feel those muscles that had, just moments before, been clutching wildly at him dilate and go slack.

Chris held himself there, still breathing hard, lost in the feel of his cock buried in such welcoming heat. When his arms finally began to shake, he carefully eased his cock out of Vin's ass, a rush of semen escaping with it.

The tracker rolled over onto his side and Chris flopped down and turned over onto his back. They snuggled together, holding each other in a comfortable silence that stretched into sleep.

When they awoke again an hour or so later, they headed for the privy, then took baths in front of the fire. While Vin soaked in the copper tub, Chris made breakfast, although it was lunchtime by the time they sat down to eat it.

"Y' believe I'm all right now?" Vin asked him when they were done.

"Yep," Chris replied. "Reckon you're well enough to help me make a few repairs out in the barn."

Vin grinned at him and shook his head. "Don't know, Cowboy, think I feel a relapse comin' on…"

 

*~ *~* ~* ~* ~* ~

 

**Three days later**

 

          Ezra rode along the trail leading to the Larabee cabin. He hadn't wanted to make this trip, but Josiah had insisted and he really didn't have a good reason to refuse. Besides, if Vin needed the… whatever it was that Nathan had given him to bring, and if Chris needed the nails, then he was glad to take them out to them… But he really would have preferred not to.

          Riding out here brought back all the memories from before…

Memories of seeing Chris and Vin together…

          He shook his head to keep himself from becoming lost in the images that had haunted him since that fateful day.

          Besides, he had been doing some work of his own since they had returned to town, and he was rather pleased with the results, and he _was_ looking forward to sharing it with both men, _if_ he got the opportunity.

          He could see the small cabin and the barn in the distance now, and he took a deep breath, willing his nerves to quiet. They, of course, had a different idea and he felt his palms beginning to sweat.

          Several minutes later, he rode into the yard and was startled when he heard Larabee say, "'Bout damn time you got here."

          Ezra shielded his eyes and looked up to where the voice had come from, to the roof of the barn, finding the blond standing here, shirtless. He swallowed hard and managed, "Uh… I didn't realize I was on a timetable…"

          "Vin's waitin' inside," Chris told him, then turned and disappeared.

          _Curious_ , Ezra thought, but he swung down from his horse and tied the gelding to the post at the corner of the corral, then untied the supplies he was carrying and took them with him into the barn. "Mr. Tanner?" he called. "Vin?"

          "Over here," the tracker responded.

          Ezra headed toward the voice, finally stepping into the largest of the stalls. He came to an abrupt stop upon finding Vin lying in the middle of a blanket that had been laid down over a pile of straw. The tracker was naked, his head pillowed on one of his arms, his other hand languidly stroking his fully-hard cock. He was smiling up at the gambler, too.

          "Took y' long 'nough," Tanner said. "Didn't y' head out 'round ten?"

          "Ten?" Ezra echoed, his gaze fixed on the tracker's hand as it slid along the thick shaft to the head. Tanner's thumb then rubbed over the exposed tip, smearing the pearly drop caught at the small slit across his skin.

          "Told J'siah t' make sure y' left by ten," Vin told him, his eyes twinkling with delight at the gambler's hungry expression.

          "Yes," Ezra breathed, still watching, "I— I left a few minutes before ten…"

          "Then what took you so long?" Chris asked, lying down beside Vin, now as naked as the tracker.

          "Long?" the gambler echoed, unable to tear his gaze away from what Vin was doing to himself.

          "What took you so long to get here?" Larabee clarified, chuckling softly as he saw the bulge in Standish's trousers.

          "Uh," the usually loquacious man said, "I, uh… I…"

          "Bet y' he was thinkin' 'bout the last time he come out here," Vin said, grinning. "When he caught us out here in the barn…"

          "Mmm," Chris replied, nodding. "What do you think we were doing?"

          Vin thought for a moment, then shrugged and rolled to the side so he could lean over and kiss the blond. "That maybe?"

          Chris considered the idea, then shook his head. "Probably something more interestin'."

          Vin nodded. "Reckon so," he said, then slid down and wrapped his fingers around Larabee's hard-on, licking across the tip. "Maybe something like that?" He turned his head and grinned at the gambler. "That what y' saw, Ezra?"

          Standish stood, unable to move, unable to speak. His mouth opened and closed a few times, giving him the look of a landed fish. But then he grunted softly and managed to say thickly, "I saw a good deal more than that, Mr. Tanner."

          It was Chris' turn to grin. "Gonna see a good deal more today, too…"

          With a quick, lithe move Vin was on his feet and standing in front of the gambler before Ezra could even think about running. He reached out and took the sacks the man was carrying, setting them aside, then turned back to Ezra and snatched the hat from his head.

          That finally prompted a reaction, and Ezra took a hasty step backward.

          "Oh no, y' don't," Vin said, reaching out to grab the man's arm. He stepped up so he was almost nose to nose with the gambler, then leaned in and kissed him – deeply, passionately.

          Ezra's eyes fell closed and he moaned softly, the sound close to a keen.

          Vin almost smiled at that, but he concentrated on exploring the gambler's mouth while his hands made quick work of the buttons on the man's coat.

A moment later that red coat was being slipped off Ezra's shoulders. Chris, Standish realized, was standing behind him now, and the blond took the garment from Vin, Tanner turning his attention to the gambler's shirt buttons.

Before he really knew what was happening, Ezra Standish was stripped naked. He felt his cheeks begin to burn when he realized the full extent of his arousal, but then he saw that it matched the arousal of the other two men.

Vin moved in again, this time taking Ezra by the wrist and leading him over to the blanket.

 _Blankets_ , Standish realized then, three or four of them piled one atop the other, probably to ensure none of the pieces of straw poked through.

The tracker lay down on them, pulling Ezra down alongside him. A moment later Chris joined them, sandwiching the gambler between them. Four hands began to touch him, explore him, and all Ezra could do was tremble and whimper, his limbs no longer responding to his demands to move, to flee.

The trembling turned to shudders when Vin nibbled at the nap of his neck and, in front of him, Chris reached out and took Ezra's hand, guiding it to the gunman's cock.

Ezra gasped softly, but he curled his fingers around it and began to stroke it. A few moments later he gasped and shook, his eyes flying open. Looking down he saw that Vin had taken him into his mouth. He felt his stomach muscles contract and his fingers tightened on the thick shaft he was holding.

Larabee's hand closed over the gambler's and Ezra quickly let go, afraid he'd hurt the man, but Chris just shifted farther up the blanket, the cock Ezra had been holding a moment before now pointed at him. Without hesitation he reached out and took hold of it, then bent his head to it, his lips brushing over the exposed head.

What Vin was doing to him made it almost impossible for him to concentrate on the task ahead, but years of experience in the saloon had honed the gambler's skills and Ezra was able to begin his work on Chris' cock even while his own was being ravaged by the tracker's mouth.

In fact, Ezra quickly allowed the tempo Vin set to be his guide, and his head began to move in time with Vin's.

Larabee kept his hand on the gambler's head, his fingers petting the man's hair in a surprisingly gentle gesture that raised goose flesh on the gamblers body.

Ezra's mouth closed around Chris' rigid shaft as he felt himself slipping dangerously close to the edge of his passion. He started to pull off, to warn the tracker, but Larabee's hand held him in place. A moment later, triggered in part by the control the blond had exercised over him, Ezra was coming, pumping his seed down Vin's throat.

Seeing the gambler's orgasm triggered Larabee's and the blond began to empty himself into Standish's mouth.

Ezra accepted the flow of the man's seed, swallowing it greedily.

Moments later, two of the three men lay, gasping for breath as their bodies hung in an ephemeral glaze of satisfaction. Ezra felt more relaxed and content than he could remember, in part because Chris had shifted somehow and was now holding him so his head was resting on the gunslinger's chest. He felt Vin shifting behind him, and then, a moment later, the soft touch of the tracker's fingers rubbing over his ass.

Ezra moaned softly and squirmed slightly, his skin more sensitive than usual.

The fingers continued, dipping into his crack, rubbing some kind of slick liquid over his hole.

The realization of what Vin planned to do caught the gambler by surprise. He started to rise, but Larabee caught him, holding him where he was and saying quietly, "Easy, he won't hurt you."

Ezra trembled at the words, his eyes rolling up slightly and then closing when Vin slipped one finger inside of him. "Oh good Lord," the gambler breathed.

The single finger was soon replaced by two, the oil making the penetration easy and painless. The feeling of fullness was slightly disconcerting, but the pleasure Ezra was feeling quickly overcame the odd sensation. He relaxed into what was being visited on his body, and felt his spent cock begin to stir in response.

He whined softly when Chris pulled out from under him, but Vin's ministrations made it impossible for him to try and follow the man. But he missed the arm that had been draped over his back, and the sound of the man's beating heart.

Quickly enough, Ezra was rolled over onto his back, and Ezra blinked his eyes open when he felt someone lifting his legs. Vin.

Ezra took over, lifting his legs, resting them on the tracker's shoulders, his gaze locked on Tanner's cock as it moved closer and closer to his body. A moment later it was pressing against his ass, then sliding into it.

"Ah!" he cried, the girth larger than he'd expected, and it sent a flare of pain rushing through him.

"Easy," he heard Larabee say, and then the blond was lying beside him again, hand stroking over Ezra's chest. "Relax and it'll be all right in a bit."

Chris was propped up on his elbow and looking down at him. The emotions in the man's green eyes were unreadable to the gambler, but the blond's free hand had now found Ezra's cock and was slowly coxing it back to life.

For his part, Vin remained completely still, waiting. His blue eyes were full of affection and wonder.

Ezra concentrated, forcing himself to relax, turning himself over to the two men to do whatever they pleased to his body. And what they pleased to do was love him.

As Chris worked on Ezra's cock, the gambler began to carefully rock his hips. Vin took that as his cue and he began to press deeper into the man, his cock finally finding that secret spot he knew he'd find.

This time Ezra gasped in pleasure, his eyes squeezing shut and his chest arching slightly.

"Found the right spot now," Vin said airily.

Chris grinned at him and nodded, then he leaned over, his lips closing on one of the two hard nubs on Ezra's chest while his hand continued to pleasure Standish's now fully hard cock.

"Oh Lord," the gambler moaned.

Vin pulled out slightly and rode in, his hips beginning to find a rhythm.

Ezra abandoned himself to the waves of pleasure that washed through his body, softly chanting, "Yes… oh, yes… Vin… Yes… oh, yes… God…"

Vin shifted position slightly and thrust harder, this time the head of cock knocking against that pleasure spot.

Ezra's eyes flew open and he cried, "Oh Lord!" He reached up, his hands closing on Larabee's arm and holding on as Vin rode him with increasing abandon.

In moments Ezra had started shaking, and, seconds later, he was shooting, his seed landing on his chest and Chris' arm.

Vin managed a few more thrusts, then he succumbed to the delight of the gambler's spasming muscles and emptied himself into the man.

Ezra lay, gasping for breath again, sweat running down his temples into his hair. He could hear Vin panting as well, the tracker's hands running lightly up and down Ezra's thighs, his cock still filling his ass. But Ezra could feel it slowly softening, and all too soon it slipped from him, its absence leaving him feeling surprisingly empty.

His legs were carefully lowered, and then Vin dropped down on the other side of Chris, saying, "Need y', Cowboy," in that raspy voice that Ezra secretly loved.

The gambler turned his head, his eyes opening, and he watched as Chris prepared Vin and then sank into him. He felt a tingle of desire and want, but his cock was beyond reviving. Still, he fondled himself as he watched, enjoying the wildness Vin exhibited, and the love that shone in Chris' eyes.

          Before too long Chris threw his head back and growled throatily as he drove into Vin and began to come. The feel of the gunman's seed filling him triggered Vin's orgasm and he reached for his cock to carrying him the rest of the way over, but Ezra reached out, taking hold of it and giving it a single pull, which was all it took. Tanner howled and started to shoot, pumping out more of the milky liquid than Ezra would have thought possible.

          When both men finally collapsed onto the blanket, Ezra lifted his come-coated hand to his lips and licked the tracker's seed off.

          Vin saw him and moaned softly, saying, "Hell, Ez, that ain't fair."

          "Fair?" Standish replied, eyes a glow with all the affection he felt for both of the men. "Sicne when have you known me to play fair, Mr. Tanner?"

          Vin grinned at that, then reached out and captured the gambler's wrist. He pulled Ezra over so he was nestled between Standish and Larabee, then sighed contentedly. In seconds, Vin was sound asleep.

          "He always do that?" Ezra asked.

          Chris grinned. "Usually." Then the blond's expression turned serious and he added, "I wanted to thank you… for all the help you gave me with him."

          Ezra nodded. "I'd say it was my pleasure, but the circumstances were anything but."

          Larabee nodded. "Still, I'm in your debt."

          Ezra knew Chris Larabee would never say such a thing if he didn't honestly mean it. He nodded. "As I am in yours." That put a confused look on the gunslinger's face. Standish continued, "I have a feeling that it was Vin who pushed for this… _menage d trios_."

          Chris met his eyes as he said, "It was a mutual agreement," he said softly.

          Ezra swallowed hard, then caught himself as he began to yawn. "Beg pardon," he said, blushing.

          "Go ahead and sleep," Chris replied. "I plan to."

          The two men snuggled closer to Vin, their arms touching as they dropped off to sleep on the blanket.

 

 

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          Three hours later the three men were bathed, dressed and seated at Larabee's table, eating a delicious meal of fresh rabbit stew and cornbread. Vin and Ezra were sat side by side, Vin directly across from Chris.

          The gambler waited until they were almost done, then said, "I have news that might be of interest, gentlemen."

          Chris looked up from his coffee, curious. Vin finished scraping the last bit of stew from his plate, then cocked his head and asked, "What would that be?"

          Ezra leaned back slightly, looking from Chris to Vin before he said, "I realized that the situation with Eli Joe has caused you both… discomfort. While we were with the good doctor, I had a thought, and I followed up on that thought once we arrived back in Four Corners."

          "This gonna take all night?" Chris asked dryly.

          Standish sighed softly. "I wired saloon owners in several communities," Ezra told them, "asking if they were acquainted with Eli Joe, and any paramour he might have in their communities."

          "And?" Chris asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

          Ezra pulled a telegram from his pocket and handed it to Larabee, who read it and passed it back to Standish.

          "Well?" Vin asked.

          "He was married," the blond said.

          "Married?" Vin echoed. "Eli Joe?"

          Ezra nodded. "Apparently so. I also located no fewer than six other women he kept company with."

          "What's this got t' do with anything?" Vin asked.

          "I thought perhaps that Eli Joe might have confided his secret concerning your situation with one of his bed-partners," Ezra said. "So I sent wires to each of the ladies in question, offering them an opportunity to do the right thing… and collect a handsome reward at the same time."

          "Reward?" Vin squeaked, his eyes rounding. "I ain't got—"

          "But I do, Vin," Ezra interrupted. "And I consider it money well spent, especially considering what came yesterday." The gambler fished into his jacket again, pulling out another telegram, which he also handed over to Chris.

          The blond read it, a rush of emotions racing over his face as he did.

          "Chris?" Vin questioned.

          The blond looked up. "It's from the sheriff in Tascosa. Says he's been contacted by Mrs. Eli Joe. She told him her husband killed Jess Kincaid so he could frame you for the murder. He's asking Ezra if he knows where you are. Wants to meet and settle this."

          Vin's mouth dropped open. "He… He's wants to see me?"

          Chris nodded.

          The tracker looked at Ezra. "He—"

          "It's almost over," Standish said, his voice soft with emotion.

          "We'll go as soon as we can," Chris stated. "All three of us."

          Ezra smiled. "Indeed. I have a reward to deliver to Mrs. Joe."

          "Y' done this fer me?" Vin asked the gambler.

          Ezra dipped his head, feeling his cheek and ears beginning to burn. "Yes, well, it was just a long shot that I decided to gamble on."

          "Thought you didn't believe in gambling," Chris said, eyes full of gratitude and affection.

          "Well," Ezra said, "sometimes we must… take a risk in order to win big."

          Vin reached out, tilting the gambler's head up and then leaning in to kiss the man. "Thank you," he said quietly when he pulled back.

          "I'm just grateful something came of it."

          Vin stood. "Let's go."

          Chris stood as well. "Vin, we need to make arrangements."

          The tracker didn't look like he was going to be persuaded.

          Ezra stood and reached out, pulling Vin into a kiss of his own, one that rendered the tracker breathless. "Now, I don't see why this can't wait until tomorrow," Standish purred, already beginning to open Vin's shirt.

          "Nope," Chris agreed, coming around to help the gambler, "no reason at all."

          Vin shivered in anticipation and grinned. "Aw hell, guess 'm gonna let y' talk me int' waitin', but only 'til t'morrow."

          "Tomorrow it is," Ezra said, reaching down to cup the tracker's growing erection. "But, until then, I suggest we find a pleasant way to pass the time…"

 

 

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